


Progeny

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Angst, Drama, Episode Related: sentineltoo, M/M, Romance, Series: Tribal Customs, h/c
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-01-22
Updated: 1999-01-22
Packaged: 2017-12-11 04:32:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 64,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/794005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim and Blair struggle with new Sentinel weirdness and gain a new understanding of their roles as Sentinel and Guide.<br/>This story is a sequel to Tribe Sentinel.<br/><b>Archivist note</b>: This story has been split into five parts for easier loading.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This probably won't make much sense unless you've read Tribe Sentinel first. Very special thanks to Tex and Sharon D for their wonderful beta reading. Feedback of all kinds is greatly appreciated, as always.

Due to the length of this story, it has been split into five parts.

## Progeny

by Annabelle Leigh

* * *

Progeny - part one  


Blair wondered how many times in his life he'd complained about being cold. He estimated the number quite possibly in the millions. It made him laugh, a little bitterly. He'd never truly known before what it meant to be cold. He could see that--now that he was a walking dictionary entry for the word, the cold a part of him, as real as his heart or bones or blood. Freezing. Icy. Wintry. Polar. These all described him. It was the kind of cold that came from within, that could not be warmed, that stubbornly resisted every hot shower, every cup of coffee, all the wool sweaters in the world. 

It was the kind of cold that could kill. 

He pulled his jacket closer around him. People stared at him as they passed. With all his layers, he looked so out of place. Everyone else was enjoying the balmy San Francisco afternoon, dressed in jeans and T-shirts, a few even sporting shorts. October was always warm here, something about the Bay Area's unique climatic configuration. Blair stopped for a moment and tilted his head back. The sun was so yellow and strong in the bright blue sky, but he couldn't feel it. The warmth wouldn't penetrate. He shivered and started walking again, picking up the pace, trying to thaw the icicles forming in his blood. 

It had been almost two months since Jim last touched him, and he was like a drug addict without the drug, the horrible chill a form of withdrawal, every fiber of his being protesting the loss. //You never really know what you have until you lose it.// It seriously pissed him off that such a tired old cliche could be so heartbreakingly true. He had always enjoyed Jim's hands on him, from the very beginning, long before they'd become lovers; but it had taken this breach between them for him to fully realize what Jim's touching meant, how he'd soaked it in, letting it stoke something essential inside him, building up the fire of his life. 

Two months. Two months was a hell of a long time when you were freezing to death. But in three days, that's exactly how long it would be--sixty-two days, 1,488 hours, 89,280 minutes, 5,356,800 seconds--since they'd last touched, last slept in the same bed, last made love...well, sort of. And that was the problem. That's when it had all gone wrong, that night when the sex hadn't been love, when Jim hadn't been Jim. That was when the chill had first set in, the beginning of his own personal ice age. 

It hadn't been love. That's what had really frightened him, more than any sense of danger or physical pain. It had never been that way between them before; no matter how turned on or desperate or primal they got, the love was always there, underlying the physical act, giving it depth and meaning, connecting their spirits as they joined their bodies. But not the last time. That night, there had been no fondness in Jim's eyes. There had been nothing in them at all really, just a terrible blankness, devoid of everything but the grim determination to complete the act. It hadn't even been lustful, just rough and mechanical, Jim's only objective seemingly to come in his ass. 

It wasn't that Blair hadn't been willing; he loved the feeling of Jim inside him, craved it, granted his lover complete access to his body, happily so. At first, it had seemed like any other time they'd made love, which had been more and more frequently lately, his partner always so hungry for him, which was a huge turn on. It really had started out perfectly normally. Jim hadn't done anything barbaric; he hadn't dragged him by the hair up to bed or slammed into his unprepared body. No, he'd opened and lubed him as carefully as ever. It was only when Jim was buried deep inside him that he'd felt the change, sensed the loss of _his_ Jim, understood that something had overtaken his lover. 

His Jim would never have fucked him that way, so hard and methodically, without any concern for his pleasure, without so much as a glimmer of recognition or feeling. Not-Jim had reduced the sex act to its most biological components--an erect cock thrusting in and out of a convenient hole. Not-Jim hadn't seemed to care who he was fucking. Not-Jim had made him feel indescribably dirty. 

He hadn't felt frightened exactly. He had gone into a sort of shock instead, totally blindsided by his lover's bizarre behavior. This was Jim after all, the only man he'd ever given himself to, his Jim, who'd always been so meticulously careful with him, so very tender, so very much a Sentinel, watching over his Guide even when they were in bed together. He hadn't been able to take it in. His mind had balked at the impossible task of reconciling the not-Jim who could hurt him so callously with the man he knew so well, a man who would have sacrificed anything to protect him. 

If Blair had ever had any doubts, he _knew_ it hadn't been his Jim when his lover finally regained his senses. He could still picture the precise moment when Jim came to, the stunned expression, followed quickly by anguish, as Sentinel eyes took in the bruises on his hips, the tears on his face, his blood on them both. It was like watching his lover electrocuted as the jolt of realization hit him, that he was the one responsible for the damage. 

Then Jim was gone again, zoned out, lost in darkness so deep and wide that his eyes went glassy, and Blair could actually feel his skin getting cooler. For one terrible moment, he'd truly feared the shock had killed him. The panic had grown as he struggled futilely to bring Jim out of it. He'd begged, shouted, commanded, cajoled, whispered words of love, anything and everything he could think of, all to no avail. He didn't know how long it had gone on, but eventually he'd become so tired that he'd collapsed onto Jim's chest, losing it completely. 

It had taken a while for it to penetrate that Jim's heart rate had returned to normal, that his skin was once again warm to the touch. He hadn't fully realized Jim was back until he felt the large, familiar hand, still a little shaky, stroking his hair. Then he'd heard Jim mumbling beneath his breath. //So sorry. Oh, God. Never again. Promise. Never gonna hurt you like that again, Chief.// 

Eventually, Jim had eased him off his chest and had gotten out of bed. Blair had expected him to head downstairs, to the bathroom, to the kitchen, something, but Jim had just stood there by the bed, saying nothing, staring down at him, intently, using his senses on him, as if trying to memorize him. That's when Blair's shivering had begun in earnest. 

"How bad is it?" Jim had finally asked, his voice no more than a whisper. 

"It only bled a little. I don't think it's a tear. If I'm careful the next couple of days, it should be fine." 

"I'd like...if it's okay...could I take a look? I'd like to take care of it...you," Jim had said, hesitantly, unable to quite look him in the eye. 

"Okay," he'd agreed. 

Jim had headed for the stairs then, pausing a moment at the top of them to say, "I'm so sorry I hurt you, Blair. I swear to God that it will never happen again." 

Jim had been as good as his word. Jim always was. He'd come back with the first aid kit and had sat down on the bed beside him, carefully, not wanting to alarm him or jar his injury. He'd used his Sentinel sight and his fingers, ever so gently, to make sure it was nothing more serious, to take care of it. Blair had begun to relax. _His_ Jim was back, and he'd promised it wouldn't happen again. 

He'd just never imagined it would mean...that had been the last time Jim touched him, even casually, even in passing, the change so abrupt and obvious that even the other detectives in Major Crimes remarked on it, wondering what had happened. 

Blair still didn't know how to answer that question. He had no idea why Jim felt the need to withdraw from him so completely. He'd watched helplessly as all the walls they'd torn down during their two-year relationship went back up again. It had to be one of the worst days of his life when Jim asked him to leave their bed. The cold had set in for good then. He'd moved his things back downstairs and had retreated night after night to his old room, to try to make some sense of it, to toss and turn restlessly as he dreamed of a time when he was warm and human, before the glacier set in. 

Blair pushed his hands deeper into his pockets, wishing he'd worn another layer of clothes. It was a longer walk to Elizabeth's house than he'd thought. On the map, it looked close by, but San Francisco was so hilly that walking anywhere took longer than expected. 

Two years ago, he and Jim had met Elizabeth and her husband Sam under bizarre and less than happy circumstances. Elizabeth, also a Sentinel, had been kidnapped by a ring of criminals, led by Alex Barnes, and had been brought to an old, abandoned grain warehouse on the outskirts of Cascade. The kidnappers had ransacked her office and found her files on other Sentinels she'd been helping, along with the key to their identities that she kept hidden separately. All the other Sentinels had been kidnapped as well, and the criminals, one of whom was a psychiatrist stripped of his license for planting post-hypnotic suggestions in his patients' minds without their knowledge or permission, subjected all the captured Sentinels to extreme and invasive conditioning, trying to turn them into zombified super-assassins. But the Sentinels, genetically imprinted to protect not destroy, resisted at all costs, two of them even committing suicide to avoid being turned into killers. Finally, Elizabeth had managed to escape, and after a lot of searching and no little danger, they'd found and freed the other remaining Sentinels, and dealt with Alex Barnes, once and for all. 

Since then, the four of them had kept in touch. Elizabeth seemed to have a unique role within the tribe of Sentinels, working with those who'd just gained their heightened senses, helping them manage until they found their Guides. With all Elizabeth's experience with Sentinels, Blair found her an invaluable resource for dealing with the vagaries of Jim's senses. It was only natural to turn to her now, when things had gotten so completely out of control. Plus, she was just a good listener, as fitted a psychiatrist, and he'd always felt comfortable confiding in her about his relationship with Jim. 

Blair walked faster, anxious to get to Elizabeth's house and begin solving the problem. The city streets were full of color and life. People passed him in couples and small groups, talking and laughing, heading for restaurants and clubs, shops and bars. It was almost alien to him. He felt so far outside ordinary human companionship. He was so utterly alone. 

Sam and Elizabeth lived in Pacific Heights, one of the nicest residential neighborhoods in the city. He looked for the right number. //224, 226, _230_ // The house was a large, white Victorian, lovingly cared for, just the kind of place he imagined them living. He walked up the long flight of steps to the front door and knocked. He could hear sounds coming from inside, footsteps, getting closer, and then the door opened. 

"Blair," Sam said and smiled broadly. "Oh my God, what a wonderful surprise!" 

Blair was cold and a little winded from his walk. His head had begun to swim, so he didn't quite catch what Sam said. He also missed the look of pleasure on his friend's face and heard only the surprise in his voice. "Oh, man. I'm sorry. I should have called. I just didn't think...maybe I should come back later? Would that be better..." he asked, beginning to back away. 

"Hey, where are you going? At least come in and say hi to Beth. She'll be so excited to see you." 

Blair tried to follow what he was saying, but it was as if the pressure and pain of the past two months had finally hit him. To make things worse, he couldn't remember the last time he'd had a good meal or gotten a full night's sleep. The dizziness overcame him, and his knees buckled. 

"Blair!" Sam cried, grabbing him by the shoulders to steady him, helping him inside. 

"Sorry, man. I'm a little worn out, you know?" 

"You should really sit down. Let's go into the living room, and I'll get you something to drink. Beth's just putting the baby down for her nap. She'll be down in a minute." 

"The baby. Oh man, you guys are probably really busy. I should definitely come back later. I don't know what I was thinking," Blair said, backing toward the door. 

When he'd first thought of asking Sam and Elizabeth for help, it had seemed like such a good idea that he'd just packed a small bag and headed out. Now that he was here, he couldn't help feeling like he was intruding. 

"Don't you dare leave before Beth gets to see you. She'll never forgive me. And honestly, Blair, I don't think you're in any kind of shape to be going anywhere." 

"Are you sure, Sam? I don't want to...I shouldn't be..." 

"Blair!" Elizabeth called as she came down the stairs. "It's so wonderful to see you. When did you get in? You should have called. We would have come to pick you up at the airport." 

He turned to her, and she saw it in his face. 

"Oh no! What's wrong? Is Jim okay? What's happened?" 

"It's just so...oh God, I don't know what to do." 

He could feel himself breaking apart; he'd been alone and lost in the frost-bitten wilderness far too long. It had eaten away at his strength, far more than he'd realized. He felt Elizabeth's arms go around him, and then she was rocking and soothing him. "Sssh. Sssh. Everything's going to be all right. I promise." 

The steel bands that had been holding him together the last two months finally snapped, and he couldn't hold it in anymore. "I need help. Oh God, please, Elizabeth. Help me," he begged. 

* * *

The first day Blair was gone, Jim had still managed to go into the station and put on a pretty convincing display of business as usual. Sure, he'd been grumpy as hell, sniping at pretty much everyone in his path, but it hadn't been so far outside the realm of what people expected from Jim Ellison that it had raised any eyebrows. The next day, well...the strain had begun to show then, the weirdness with his senses starting to careen out of control. He'd been a prick, to put it mildly. 

Finally, he'd gone in to Simon's office and apologized, explaining the problem, at least as much of it as he could confide in his superior officer. Simon had understood and sent him home, assuming Blair was there, that he would figure out what was wrong with Jim and fix it, like he always did. He'd told Jim not to bother coming in again until Monday, wanting to make sure the Sentinel thing was under control before sending him back out onto the streets--for his own good and everyone else's too. As Jim had waited for the elevator, he could hear Simon making his excuses for him, saying it was a virus, a fever, something he needed to go home and sleep off. 

As if that were possible. 

Instead, Jim had gone home yesterday and closed himself up in the loft like it was a vault. Or a grave. He'd shut and locked every window, closed every blind, chained the door. Then he'd retreated to the darkest corner of the living room and huddled there, trying to cut himself off from light and sound and memory, because it all hurt way too much. 

He'd never before considered whether it was possible to zone out on the absence, rather than the presence, of a stimulus, but now he knew the answer, at least when what was missing was his Guide. It amazed him how cold and empty the loft was without Blair, almost foreign, hardly home at all. He'd spent the last twenty hours turning that thought over in his mind, losing himself in the silence and dark that was life without his partner--in between bouts of hallucinogenic sensory spikes, the same ones he'd been experiencing for the last two months and that were now getting worse. 

At least, it hadn't come as a shock that night when he'd come home to find the note. He'd been expecting it. He knew Blair wouldn't be able to withstand his ice man routine forever. Of course, he would leave eventually. Of course, there would be a note. This was Blair, who could not stand to part without words. This was Blair, who didn't have an unkind bone in his body, who would never want him to worry--his Blair, who would never have gone if Jim hadn't done something so unconscionable that he'd made it impossible for him to stay. 

He tried to focus his vision, but the room swirled wildly, dripping in psychedelic colors, like a nauseating ride on an out of control Tilt-a-Whirl, a carnival gone mad inside his head. A dissonant jumble of sounds played in his ears, the volume rising and falling unpredictably, keeping him permanently on edge, never knowing when it was going to hit some painful new extreme. His sense of smell was traveling down memory lane, causing him to relive hundreds of scents he'd picked up at crime scenes over the years, blood and fear, gunpowder and decay, all sorts of disgusting things, reminders of gruesome death and grave danger. 

Maybe if he'd told Blair about this thing with his senses when it first started, it wouldn't have reached this crisis point, and it certainly would have helped if he hadn't driven his Guide away. //Everything is always worse without Blair beside me.// Since he'd found the note, all five of his senses had gone haywire, flooding his brain with chaotic, misleading feedback, like tripping on every kind of heavy duty drug--acid and PCP, meth and Golden--all at once, complete with flashbacks. His senses turned the loft into a veritable fun house of past nightmares, things seeming to pop out at him from its shadowy corners, all impossible, Lash's dentist chair and yellow scarves, a plummeting elevator, the spotted jaguar pacing ominously, a fountain bubbling with brackish water. Worst of all was Blair's face, the shocked and betrayed expression he'd woken up to find on it that night, after Jim had...done whatever he'd done to him. 

He closed his eyes tighter and rocked slightly, trying to find some comfort huddled in his corner of the living room, cheek pressed against the smooth wall, looking for something to hold on to as wave after wave of false smells, sounds and impressions overtook him. He tried to keep reminding himself that it was all just one big hallucination, but somehow that didn't help very much. The phantom high pitches and bright lights still hurt his senses. The memories still tortured him. 

//Shoulda told Blair. Shoulda told Blair. Shoulda told Blair.// He didn't know why the lesson Alex Barnes had taught him remained so hard to put into practice. He _knew_ no good ever came from withholding things from his Guide. But in this case, how could he have told Blair when it had all started because of that night when he'd gotten so out of control? How could he have asked for help from his Guide after what he'd taken? 

//You should have told him when you first noticed the _other_ thing.// The other thing. That was the euphemism he used to describe the disturbing, compulsive thoughts he'd started having about Blair. Even he recognized it for the distancing mechanism it was. He would do anything to avoid claiming those subhuman impulses as any part of himself. It terrified and disgusted him that such dark urges lurked inside him, in the seamy underbelly of his soul, biding their time, plotting against him, just waiting to break free into the clear light of day and ruin his life. 

He'd always known that he didn't deserve Blair. That painful understanding had nagged at him throughout their partnership. Every time he insulted his partner, hurt him, refused to listen, caused those eternally expressive eyes to fill with sadness and disappointment, it was simply more evidence of his unworthiness. The whole thing with Alex Barnes should have been enough for him. He should have taken a lesson from how badly he'd mistreated his Guide and how magnanimously Blair had forgiven him. How could he ever deserve to have a man of such compassion and grace in his life? He didn't, and these rabid, destructive sexual impulses were just the final confirmation. 

He couldn't even quite remember when it had begun to shift; the onset had been insidious, a few more lustful thoughts than usual, nothing extreme or untoward, nothing he couldn't write off as some little spurt of libido. So he wanted Blair pretty much all the time? So? There was nothing terribly surprising about that. He loved Blair, found him attractive. Blair was his mate. It was natural, fitting, only right to want him. 

It wasn't until the urge turned, mutated, became something twisted and compulsive, that he recognized how truly out of order his desire had become. He should have told Blair then, when he first knew something was wrong. He wished that he at least had a good excuse for _not_ telling him; even the old standby, fear, would have been something. His true reason was lame beyond belief. He hadn't confided in his Guide this very important information, that he had ever reason to know since it intimately concerned him, because he'd been too damned embarrassed to say it out loud. //I don't mean to alarm you or anything, Chief, but I'm so damned horny for you all the time that I can't see you or be with you or pretty much even think about you without wanting to yank your pants down and bend you over the nearest piece of furniture. Hope you don't mind that you've committed your life to a dirty old man who can't get his mind out of the gutter or off your ass.// 

Okay, so maybe he shouldn't have put it quite that way, but he definitely should have told Blair. Somehow the same old voodoo thinking had taken hold of him again, that if he didn't say it out loud then it would just magically go away. Of course, it hadn't. Of course, it had only grown worse. He could see that now, but at the time...at the time, it really had been like he was under the influence of drugs, his judgment and restraint all shot to hell. He'd wanted what he wanted when he wanted it. He'd grown sexually demanding, manipulative, his need far outside any normal bounds. Like any junkie, he hadn't been willing to admit he had a problem. He hadn't wanted to do anything that might jeopardize getting his fix. 

To make things even more insane, none of the sex had been even remotely satisfying, despite the urgency of his need. It had not been like the old days, when he and Blair had _made love_ , and they both went away from the experience feeling pleasured and sated. The dark need was never-ending and unquenchable, selfish and one dimensional. In the heat of its grasp, he never felt any of the tender feelings that usually went along with their sex. It was compulsive, and he could never get enough of Blair, never be inside him enough, fuck him long enough, come hard enough. He could never get his fill, never appease his appetite. The dark desire was a relentless master. It would not let him rest, so he would not let Blair rest. 

Before this monstrous urge had taken control of him, he'd always concentrated on being a considerate lover, making sure he took care of Blair's needs as he got his own met, respecting his partner's other responsibilities and his boundaries. The dark passion erased all that. When Blair was too tired, he insisted. When Blair needed to spend time on his school work, he cajoled. When Blair just wanted to cuddle and fall sleep in his arms, he pushed the issue. The relentless urge to fuck his Guide would not be denied, and he'd done everything but out and out take him by force. At least until that night. That night, he'd...well, he didn't really know what he'd done. The veil of lust had obscured his senses and his memory. He still couldn't recall the actual intercourse. He couldn't remember if Blair had consented or if he'd struggled against it, crying out, begging Jim to stop, even as he'd continued to pound away at him. 

But Jim did carry in his mind's eye a meticulously detailed picture of the aftermath of what he'd done, the haunted and forlorn expression on Blair's face, the trembling lower lip, the black fingermark bruises on his hips, the blood and come smearing his thighs. 

After that, there was another blank, more missing time. He must have zoned on his own repulsion at the appalling way he'd mistreated his lover. When he'd come to again, he'd found Blair lying on top of him, sobbing, completely terrified. He'd hated himself then, for what he'd done to Blair, for not even being man enough to stay in the moment and deal with the consequences. He'd made up his mind then and there to never _ever_ harm his partner again, to take care of him instead, to cage the raging beast inside him that had allowed him to hurt his Guide so shamefully. 

At least Blair had agreed to let him take a look at the injury. That had given him a glimmer of hope. Blair had watched with large, solemn eyes as Jim checked him out, being as gentle as possible. Blair had been frighteningly silent the whole time, and that had pained Jim more than he could have imagined. It had been nearly impossible to keep his hands from shaking as he'd cleaned and tended the wound, which thankfully wasn't too serious. 

//I really might have raped him that night. I just don't remember. But I do know that I damaged him, hurt him inside, fucked him like an animal until he bled, and that makes me the worst kind of monster I can imagine.// 

When he'd come to his senses that night and discovered Blair pinned beneath him, bleeding, it still hadn't given him the courage to explain, to throw himself at Blair's feet and beg for forgiveness, the way he should have. Neither had he been brave enough to ask what had happened, too terrified of the truth, the story that he feared would sound like the painful recitations he heard down at the station, the unforgivable betrayal of sacred trust. But he had at least managed a silent promise, to himself and to Blair, that it would never happen again, and it hadn't. 

It was not that the dark urge had gone away. He was constantly aware of it, a savage, snarling beast, just below the surface of his consciousness, looking for any small opening, a way to escape, to get back out into the world, to do more harm, to get what it wanted. He'd spent every second of every day forcing it down, holding it back, using a whip and chair, cold showers and bleak visions of life without Blair, all to keep it at bay, all to keep Blair safe and still part of his life. 

But that safety had come with a high price tag--for both of them. Jim had found that the only way he could keep the unnatural desire even remotely under control was to withdraw from his Guide completely, not make love with him, not sleep in the same bed, not touch him at all. He'd gone down to the storage area in the basement and retrieved Blair's old bed, turning his partner's office once more into his bedroom, turning back the clock on their relationship, back to separate sleeping arrangements, just partners, in the non-romantic sense of the word. 

The hardest part had been retraining his senses. They were anchored to Blair in some way; they _wanted_ him, needed him. But somehow he'd managed to shut Blair out of his awareness, to wean himself off his Guide, learning to ignore his scent, tune out his voice, even finally to stop listening for his heart beat. 

That's when his senses had rebelled against him in earnest, when he'd stopped filling them with Blair. 

Blair had been stunned when Jim had asked him to move out of their bed. He'd stubbornly refused, protesting like crazy, but Jim had met his every argument, his every plea with relentless iciness. Blair was no match for the deep freeze. He'd finally given in and gone back to his old room, extremely reluctantly. Even then, he hadn't stopped trying to repair their relationship. He'd kept after Jim, every opportunity he got, asking questions, struggling to make Jim open up, trying to get close to him again, making every effort to understand. 

So Jim had schooled himself to resist Blair in this way too, hardening himself against the man who meant more to him than life, meeting his every plea with the old silence and the stony look, things he'd thought he'd put away forever when they'd become lovers. He'd taught himself to watch television, look out the window, focus on Simon or the other Major Crimes detectives, stare into thin air if all else failed, anything but to look at Blair, into that beautiful face, those bottomless blue eyes, filled with the pain and sadness he'd put there. 

The whole time, he'd known it would come to this someday. He'd known Blair couldn't stand to be ignored and locked out forever. He'd always expected to come home one evening to find a note, this note, because Blair was not as hard and cruel as he was, because Blair would not abandon _him_ without at least a few words of explanation, without saying good-bye. 

//Things can't go on like this. I need some time away, to think, to figure things out. I'll come back when I can.// 

Three days, and still there had been no word from him. Jim had called the university only to find that Blair had arranged a leave of absence through the end of the semester. It was only a few weeks, but he didn't know if he could live that long without his Guide, his lover, the center of his universe. Even then, Blair might not come home to him. He might return to Cascade, without resuming his life with Jim. 

He held onto the wall as another dizzying surge of hallucinations overtook him. It wouldn't matter anyway. By then, there would be nothing left of him, nothing to come back to. 

//Oh God, Chief, I really should have told you.// 

* * *

Elizabeth held her daughter in her arms, rocking gently in the old chair passed down to her by her own mother. She hummed softly to the baby, and Carla watched her intently, nursing hungrily, her large blue eyes moving in fascination over her mother's face. 

"Oh yes, you're my little angel, aren't you? Yes, you are," she cooed to the baby. 

Elizabeth snuggled Carla closer, but she couldn't keep her thoughts from drifting back to Blair. He'd been with them four days now, but she was no closer to understanding what had gone wrong between him and Jim. That first day, he'd been too exhausted and upset. She'd insisted that he have a little lunch and then go lie down. Along the way, she'd ascertained that Jim wasn't dead or in any imminent danger. She'd thought it best to wait until Blair had rested before getting the whole story. So she'd shown him to a guest room, and he'd slept until late the next morning. 

He seemed a little better the next day, less worn out, calmer, but every time she tried to get him to talk, she could hear his heart speed up and his breath become ragged. Her Sentinel instincts made it very difficult for her to watch a Guide, any Guide, suffer, and every impulse in her wanted to push, to get him to tell her, so he wouldn't have to carry the burden alone. But she couldn't bring herself to add to his anxiety, so she took him outside to look at the garden instead, showed him her office, watched while he played with her daughter, anything to take his mind off his troubles for a little while. 

Yesterday, he'd lapsed into a profound silence, and she'd had a hard time engaging him at all. Finally, she'd just left him to his own devices, understanding that he was working out his ambivalence about confiding in her, dealing with his sense of betraying Jim's trust, a response she often saw in her patients, the desire for help at odds with the need to protect the privacy of loved ones. Blair had spent most of the day on the sun porch, staring out the window. It was a beautiful view, but she rather doubted he'd noticed, caught up in a tangle of thoughts. Still, she'd left him there; patience was a psychiatrist's most valuable tool. 

While she fed her child, Elizabeth opened her hearing and listened to the sounds filling her house. Sam was in his office on the second floor. She could his heart beating, his breath, the staccato rhythm of his typing. Marta was in the kitchen, washing dishes, singing in Spanish. Elizabeth smiled. She regarded their housekeeper as something of a miracle, since she was one of the few people who could keep Carla calm and happy. The house was fairly quiet otherwise, so she assumed that Elena and Clare, the young Sentinel and Guide pair staying with them, had gone out. 

Then there was Blair. She could hear him moving through the first floor, almost aimlessly. She listened as he paused at the bottom of the stairs, before beginning to climb, up to the second floor and then the third. She tracked him as he moved down the hall, looking for her. She adjusted the baby blanket, for modesty's sake. 

"Elizabeth?" he called, appearing in the doorway. "Oh God, I'm sorry." He turned a deep red and was about to leave. 

"It's okay, Blair. You can come in." 

He peeked around the door. "Are you sure you don't mind?" 

"I don't, if you don't." 

He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "Well, I guess...God, I'm supposed to be free and easy Naomi Sandburg's son." 

Elizabeth couldn't help laughing. "You wouldn't be the first person who preferred not to know too much about breast feeding." 

"I mean, I know it's really natural and the best thing for the baby and all. It's really great that you're doing it. You know, studies show the benefits last a lifetime. Breast-fed babies have stronger immune systems, a lower incidence of depression and a lot of other good things." 

"Do you want me to come down to the living room when I'm finished, and we can talk there?" she asked, understanding that this rambling was his way of dealing with the awkwardness. 

He thought a moment and finally shook his head. "I'd like to stay, if it's really okay." 

"Make yourself at home." 

There was another chair on the opposite wall, but he settled onto the floor instead, crossing his legs into a lotus posture to help center himself or maybe just out of habit. 

"I think Carla's getting used to me," he said. "Maybe even likes me a little." 

Elizabeth smiled at him. "She recognizes you, knows you're part of the tribe. I'm pretty sure she's tracking you the way she does me and Sam. She definitely heard you coming this way. I could tell." 

"Does she have the same feeling for all Sentinels and Guides?" 

Elizabeth considered the question. "Well, she can definitely tell Sentinels and Guides apart from other people, and she's always more comfortable with them. But she has a definite thing for Guides. I don't know how it works exactly, but I think Guides, even though they're not her Guide, help soothe her senses, the same way Sam and I seem to as her parents. She can be pretty fussy otherwise. In fact, there's nobody left in San Francisco who'll babysit for us. Thank God for Marta and working at home. That's really why we moved into the new house, so we'd have room for my office and Sam's. Plus, we have more space now for the Sentinels and Guides who come to us." 

"Yeah, I kind of met Clare and Elena already." 

Elizabeth sighed and shook her head. "I'm sure you did. Clare must dial her hearing down so far she's practically deaf to be able to scream like that." 

Blair couldn't help grinning. "For teenage girls, they have pretty colorful vocabularies." 

"They don't like each other. I have no idea what to make of that. To be honest, I didn't even think it was possible." 

"It's never happened before?" 

"Not like this. I mean, emotions always run pretty high around Sentinels and Guides finding each other, and it's not always pure happiness. Not everyone is thrilled to have their lives take such a huge, bizarre turn. But at the same time, the instincts are so powerful that it's not really something that _can_ be resisted. Most of us don't want to anyway, because we truly like our partners. We're drawn to them. But these girls...they're not clicking at all." 

"Are you sure it's the right Guide?" 

"She showed up. Actually, she came to stay with us as part of this program that allows gifted students to study at Stanford for a semester. She's from back east. We're a host family. So it was the usual weird fate thing that brought her here. Plus, she has all the usual Guide characteristics--the energy and curiosity, the verbal skills, the highly developed intuition, a flexible belief system that allows her to accept that Sentinels exist and that she has a role in it. I can't imagine that she's not the right Guide." 

"So maybe they just need a little push. What do you usually do to get the pairs together?" 

"Nothing, and that's the problem. All I've ever had to do was get out of the way and let nature take its course. Now that nature seems to have fallen down on the job, I don't have a clue what to do." 

"Maybe it just needs some time. I mean, Jim and I weren't exactly trouble free at the beginning. Still not," he said, the weight of sadness returning to his voice. 

He stared at his hands in his lap, and Elizabeth waited him out, knowing he would tell her when he was ready. 

"So maybe Clare and Elena will still come around," he said, not yet ready to go into all that had happened between him and Jim. "It's not like Jim was exactly thrilled at the beginning that _I_ was the one who could help him with his senses. I mean, we've told you the 'neo hippie witch doctor punk' story." 

Elizabeth smiled. "Jim may not have liked feeling helpless, but he always knew he needed you. When you think back on how much he trusted you from the very beginning, it's really quite amazing, a true testament to the strength of the Sentinel/Guide bond. I mean, think about it, Blair. He confided in you about his senses and let you help him learn to manage them, allowed you to run all kinds of tests on him, got you a job working at the police department with him, introduced you to his friends, opened his world to you, moved you into his home, all in what? Two weeks?" 

It was the first genuine smile she'd seen from him since he'd arrived. "My place blew up." 

"Yeah, well, sometimes fate is a Sentinel and Guide's best friend." 

Blair nodded, and then the smile disappeared. "I just wish..." he started to say but lost his nerve again. "I guess it doesn't help that Clare and Elena come from such different backgrounds--you know, different parts of the country, different cultural heritage, apparently different upbringings. That can be tough." 

Elizabeth sighed to herself, but let him change the subject anyway, still thinking it best not to push. "It certainly puts another obstacle in the way, although it's no more than other Sentinels and Guides have overcome. When I really think about it, there aren't any pairs who are exactly what you might call compatible, at least not outwardly. I mean, Sam and I are complete opposites in so many ways. Maybe that's why it works. Maybe those differences are important." 

"A yin and yang kind of thing? Two different aspects of the same whole, completing one another." 

"Exactly." 

Blair nodded, his eyes lighting up with intellectual curiosity, some of his old enthusiasm returning. "It makes sense actually. The Sentinel and Guide have such different roles, but it's a complementary kind of opposition. I mean, Jim and I are definitely not cut from the same cloth, but we still manage to...I'm sure Clare and Elena will figure it out." 

Elizabeth rocked Carla gently. "I think the biggest problem for them is that Clare is a natural born Sentinel--as opposed to those of us who developed later on, in response to some traumatic event. Clare's like Carla will be. She's always had her senses. She's had to learn to manage them on her own, to be her own Guide in a sense. From what I can tell, her family has never been especially attentive to her. Clare was having some problems in school, not actually related to her senses, and her parents brought her to see me. I figured out she was one of us, and when I suggested to her parents that Clare would be better off staying here for a while, they didn't even ask me why. They just fell all over themselves taking me up on the offer. That kind of indifference, neglect I'd actually call it, has only made Clare more independent spirited. So she really doesn't believe she needs a Guide." 

"So does she?" 

Elizabeth frowned and nodded. "Yes, I really think so." 

Carla finished nursing, and Elizabeth rebuttoned her blouse. She lifted the baby onto her shoulder and tenderly patted her back while she rocked her. "I can't help thinking of _her_ , you know who I mean. I still have nightmares sometimes, about what they did to me in that place. Or sometimes, I just see her face, that furious, demented expression, like she wasn't even human, as she went over the side of that ravine. But the worst times are when I dream there are more like her out there. I just can't let that happen. Making sure Sentinels properly bond with their Guides is an important part of preventing it." 

"You're really worried about what will happen to Clare if she can't accept Elena?" 

She nodded and pulled her baby closer. "It's too much for one person to handle alone, no matter how they got the senses or how well they can manage for a limited amount of time. Sooner or later, it's going to get out of control. Since I had Carla, I just can't help worrying...what if there are special problems with forming the bond for natural born Sentinels?" 

Blair thought about it carefully. "Even if it is more difficult, that doesn't make it impossible. I mean, look at Jim. From what we can tell, he was a natural born Sentinel. I finally got to talk with his father about it, and he says Jim was a particularly cranky baby, even the slightest hint of noise would wake him up. They used to have to crawl out of his room when they put him down at night, so the floorboards wouldn't creak." 

Elizabeth smiled tiredly. "That sounds like my little angel." 

"And Jim turned out fine. He's got the imperative to protect the tribe in spades. I mean, he did end up repressing his abilities throughout part of his childhood and into adulthood, but he came from a rigid household where his father didn't understand what he was and urged him to hide his abilities so he wouldn't be labeled a freak. Even then, he didn't go bad like Alex. He was still able to accept me, after some initial resistance. There's no reason why a born Sentinel with parents who are Sentinel and Guide, who can help her develop and control her gift, should have any unsolvable problems or be at any higher risk for not bonding with the Guide than other Sentinels. And remember, Alex wasn't born a Sentinel. She became one." 

Elizabeth nodded. "You're right. I know you are. Still, I can't help...oh God, Blair, I never had any idea what it was going to be like to be a parent, the sheer volume of things there are to obsess over. I never really knew what terror was before Carla was born." 

Blair smiled at her reassuringly. "You're a great mother, and Sam's a great dad. Carla's going to be fine. She's going to grow up to be a wonderful person, just like her parents." 

"Thanks," she said gratefully, kissing her baby's tuft of blond hair. 

"Could I...would it be okay..." he asked, reaching out his arms. 

"Of course," she said. "Come sit here. She likes to be rocked after she's eaten." 

Elizabeth got up and let Blair sit down in the chair, settling her daughter in his arms. He started to rock, and Carla cooed softly at him. 

Elizabeth beamed at them. "That's my little Sentinel, crazy about the Guides." 

"Do you really think she likes me?" he asked, very pleased. 

"She _adores_ you. Believe me, you'd know if she didn't. In fact, I think you're quickly becoming her new favorite person. That's quite a compliment. My daughter has very discriminating tastes." 

"Sometimes I wonder what it would be like, if Jim and I had a baby." 

"You'd make wonderful parents." 

"Like anyone's going to give _two men_ a baby." 

"There's always a way. If you're really serious, I'm counseling a gay couple, two men, who just adopted an older child. I'd be glad to find out for you how they did it." 

"I kind of doubt Jim would be interested. He told me he never wanted kids when he and Carolyn were married. That's one of the things that broke them up." 

"That was then, with someone else. Maybe it would be different now that he's with you." 

Blair's face twisted in pain. "I can't even begin to think about that right now. I don't even know if there's going to be an us much longer." 

Elizabeth knelt by the rocker and put a comforting hand on his arm. "You don't really believe that, do you? You and Jim are meant to be together forever. That's the way it is with Sentinels and Guides." 

He squeezed his eyes tightly closed, but a few tears escaped anyway. "He stopped making love to me. He won't sleep in the same bed with me. He won't talk about it. He just...he doesn't want me anymore." 

"I find that impossible to believe. When did it start? Something must have happened. What triggered it?" 

Blair blushed furiously. 

"So you do know, don't you, Blair?" Elizabeth asked gently. 

He nodded. "It's kind of...I don't know how to..." 

"It's okay. All you have to do is say it, whatever it is. You can tell me anything. There's nothing that will shock me, and I really do want to help." 

He took a deep breath and cradled the baby a little closer. "Something happened...while we were making love. Well, while we were having sex. See, that's the problem. It was sex, not love, and that never happened before. Jim got kind of...well, he was rough, very rough, actually. 

She squeezed his arm. "I'm sorry, Blair. I need to put this in clinical language to make sure I understand correctly. Jim had anal intercourse with you, and he was inappropriately forceful." 

Blair nodded. 

"Did he hurt you?" she asked, trying to keep the anger out of her voice. She'd promised to understand, and she was trained not to judge. But a Guide harmed by a Sentinel hit square in the middle of a genetic blind spot that was very difficult to reason with. 

"Not seriously, but I did bleed a little. He wouldn't touch me after that." 

Elizabeth went cold all over. "Oh no!" she said, the sick reverberation of memory passing through her. 

"What?" Blair asked, his eyes wide and stricken. 

"It's just...when I was at that place and they made me think I'd hurt Sam, I had this violent reaction when I thought I'd spilled his blood. It was actual physical pain, truly excruciating. When I was first trying to sort out the memories, I thought it was something they'd done to me, some other kind of torture. But then it started to seem like it had come from inside me, that it was connected to believing I'd hurt my Guide, to seeing his blood on my hands." 

"While Jim was...doing that to me, it was like it wasn't even him. But afterwards, when he came back to himself, I saw something run through him, like a jolt of electricity, and I'd never seen him in greater pain." 

Elizabeth nodded. "Yes, that's exactly what it felt like, like being electrocuted. And you say he hasn't touched you since then?" 

A few more tears fell. "He withdrew from me completely. One day, I came up behind him in the kitchen, and I startled him. I was able to sneak up on a man who's a former Army Ranger, a cop and a _Sentinel_ , for God's sake. He didn't even hear me, that's how tuned out to me he was." 

Elizabeth stood up abruptly and began to pace. "Oh, shit! He wouldn't have been stupid enough to...but of course, he would. He hurt you, and he couldn't risk doing it again. Damn it, Jim!" 

"Okay, Elizabeth, you're scaring the shit out of me here. What are you talking about?" 

"I'm sorry, Blair, but Jim's in trouble. When the two of you completed the bond, Jim filled his senses with you. He anchored himself to you. When he became worried about your safety, he ripped his senses away from you, and now he won't be able to control them. We need to get to him. We need to get the two of you back together. Before it's too late." 

All the color drained out of Blair's face, and he handed Carla back to her. "Are you saying Jim could...oh my God, this has been going on for two months. I can't believe I didn't sense anything." 

Elizabeth shook her head. "Don't blame yourself. He broke the bond, and I'm sure that affected your ability to read him." 

"Oh God, he broke the bond. Of course. I guess I just didn't want to see it, but that is what he did, isn't it? But why? Why would he do that?" Blair asked, his voice shaking. 

"Only Jim can tell us that. But I'm certain there's something more going on here than we know about. Something's really wrong with him. I mean, the last thing on earth Jim Ellison would ever do if he had any control over himself at all is hurt you." 

"But Elizabeth, it was way beyond a lack of control that night. It was like...he didn't even seem quite human." 

Elizabeth nodded, mulling over that information. "We really need to find him, as soon as possible. I tried to call him at home all day yesterday, but I never got any answer." 

Blair stared at her. 

"Sorry," she said. "I thought maybe I could get Jim to tell me what happened. You wouldn't talk, and I was worried about you." 

"It's okay," Blair finally said. "I guess I would have done the same thing. But you never reached him?" The panic returned to his voice. 

She shook her head. "Maybe he's at the station. We should call Captain Banks." 

"Yeah, maybe Simon knows where he is. Or at least he can find out." 

"We need Jim here, even if he doesn't want to come." 

"Simon can be very persuasive." 

"Good, because Jim's life could depend on it." 

* * *

The autumn sky had already turned a deep slate gray, in anticipation of winter. She should have felt cold, would have been freezing, if she'd been able to feel anything at all. The wind whistled in the trees outside the old, abandoned grain warehouse, a sound that reminded her of lost souls, a lone pioneer stranded in a snowstorm on the empty prairie, a pilgrim wandering in the wilderness--the very essence of abandonment and mournfulness. 

The air was growing chill, and its icy fingers wriggled and squirmed their way through the many gaps and chinks in the building's deteriorating walls. Sometimes, she could feel gusts of air blowing up and down the long corridors, as if there were ghosts out walking the halls. She wished with all her heart that it _were_ ghosts; she had come in search of the dead, a Guide following after her lost Sentinel. But she had not been reunited with him, as some part of her had hoped. Instead, she had found only echoes of the past, the tragic story of everything that had happened in this bleak, comfortless place, her husband's tomb. 

_How do you return to the ordinary world, to the old life when you were once the chosen, touched by destiny, picked out from all the rest to be part of the great mystery of the cosmos?_

She had been struggling with this question without answer for two long years, since that day when the world had ended, when she just knew without even hearing the news, feeling the death as if it were her own cells expiring one by one, darkness descending over her like a veil, the blood freezing in her veins like ice on a winter pond. That's why she never minded the cold here in this place where her life had been shattered, because now, without her mate, her Sentinel, she was made of something far colder and harder than the thickest glacier. Mere weather couldn't touch her. Nothing could. 

It made her bitter sometimes that no one truly understood her loss. Oh, there were other people who mourned for her husband. He was a good man, and there had been many people who had come to the funeral, many who were grieved by his untimely and unnecessary death, many who had offered their sincere condolences. _A true tragedy to lose such a man...a blow to the whole community._ But they didn't really know him, not any of them. For so many reasons, it never would have been possible to reveal to them the true miracle of what he was--Sentinel, protector, watchman. So neither could they appreciate the sacred bond between the two of them, inseparable dyad, Sentinel and Guide, two parts of the same glorious whole. So there was no one with whom she could share the full extent of what she had lost. 

At the beginning, she'd been determined to go on, the way he would have wanted, her only remaining goal in life to honor his memory and his spirit. She'd tried to pull together the threads of her life, to keep herself somewhat intact, but she just kept unraveling anyway. For a short time, she'd been able to manage some semblance of normalcy. She'd gotten up every morning to go to work. She'd sorted the books at the library and answered questions about how to research family trees, trying not to look like a natural disaster. She'd cleaned the house and eaten meals even when she wasn't hungry. She'd accepted other people's sympathy and their inevitable pity. At first, she'd been able to put a brave face on her widowhood, to make people more comfortable. For a while, she'd been able to conceal her misery, to pretend she hadn't been reduced to rubble. 

But all that make-believe had taken its toll after a while; somewhere along the line, she'd just run out of steam. Her mind wandered when library patrons asked her where to find reference materials. She burst into tears at the slightest thing: a man she passed on the street who reminded her of her husband, seeing couples so obviously in love shopping at the grocery store together or strolling through the mall, hearing her husband's name used for some character on a television show. She'd tried too hard not to cry for far too long, and now the tears would not be denied, needing little or no provocation. She began to make the people around her nervous, the black depth of her grief scaring them. Her co-workers stopped inviting her to lunch. The couples she and her Sentinel had once been friendly with, the people with whom they'd shared dinners and ball games and New Year's Eve dances, stopped calling. The children at the library started going to anyone else on staff to ask their questions, avoiding her at all costs, hurrying past her with downturned eyes, as if she were the bogey man. 

After a while, it had seemed pointless to get out of bed at all, so she'd lain there day after day, staring into space, wondering. She could not imagine why she was still alive. Her absolute lack of purpose terrified her. She spent hour after hour, week after week, contemplating the curtains, lost in an emptiness so profound it consumed her. She would probably still be there, lying curled up tight in a fetal ball, in the ratty flannel nightgown that had become her second skin, if the money hadn't run out. 

That's what finally brought them back, those old friends, the impending financial collapse. They came as a group, four of them, all men, more her Sentinel's friends than her own. They felt a sense of duty, she imagined, to help the grief-maddened widow before she lost everything her husband had worked so hard for. They laid it all out for her, very carefully, explaining her own circumstances to her in great detail and simple language, with more than a little condescension, certain they knew better than she did, which was probably true. 

They'd been to see her former boss at the library, and she could still have her old job back. She could sell the house and move to a smaller place. She could liquefy some of the investments meant for retirement, just until she got over the rough patch. She'd listened and nodded, accepting everything they suggested, leaving it all in their hands. It made no difference. She didn't care what they did or how she lived. She didn't care what she kept or how much she lost. Her Sentinel had been everything; these things meant nothing. 

_How do you go back to being ordinary when you have lived an extraordinary life?_

She'd floated through an entire year like that, doing what other people told her, smiling her false, dead smile, taking their helpful suggestions, like a robot, not caring, completely numb. It was only as the second anniversary of her Sentinel's death approached that she'd felt it stirring inside her, this terrible restlessness, the hunted, haunted feeling. It finally occurred to her that maybe she was still alive because she didn't fully understand what had happened to her mate; there had been no closure. If only she could go to the place where it had happened, perhaps she would feel something, have some sense of his final moments. Maybe she could lie down on the very spot and experience what he'd gone through--only this time she'd die along with him, and then they could be together again, like they were always meant to be. 

She hadn't told those well-meaning people, her keepers, that she was leaving or where she was going. She'd just gone, without a word, abandoning everything in that life without a single regret. One way or another, she knew she'd never need any of it ever again. 

Now she spent her days wandering this desolate, forlorn building like a phantom. It had been weeks and weeks since she'd arrived, although she'd lost track of exactly how many. She'd searched every inch of the warehouse, and she'd finally found the place where it had happened. She could tell because it was always the coldest spot in the entire structure, glacial even before the weather turned. It was also the darkest part of the building. In fact, no matter how sunny it was outside the light just never seemed to penetrate that shadowy corner. Even at the sun's zenith, it was as black as an abyss. 

Whenever she lay there on the hard, cold concrete floor, she saw odd flashes in her head, heard strangled sounds, the reverberations of her love's terrible suffering. She formed them like puzzle pieces into a picture of her Sentinel's last moments on earth. She could feel his desperation, feel him losing control, feel the rising terror and the grim determination. In her mind's eye, she saw him make the decision, use the last bit of his strength and sanity to find a suitable weapon, steel himself to do what had to be done. She watched helplessly as his life drained from him, her beloved sacrificing himself so his gift couldn't be used against the people it was intended to protect. She grieved as she imagined what he must have felt, how terrified, how cold, how utterly alone, as he passed into that final darkness. 

She wasn't there when he needed her. That's the thought that constantly pulsed through her mind, a disconsolate mantra. She'd always prized the depth and strength of his need for her. She'd relied on it. No one else had ever wanted her that way, with such totality, hungry for everything she was, needing everything she could give, returning it all, in equal measure. That all-consuming need of his had always made her feel safe; it was the gravity that held her to the earth, that gave each day, each moment meaning. Without it, she was freefalling through space and time, with nothing and no one to hold on to. If she'd never known what it was to have such connection, she would never have missed it. Before him, she'd thought she was satisfied; she hadn't known enough to be able to tell the difference. But now she knew, and she felt the loss, with excruciating vividness, as if she were the one with heightened perception. 

And she was still alive. She had no idea why. 

Since the day of her Sentinel's funeral, she had been counting down, marking off the days, certain it would only be a matter of time. She had even planned it. She'd stockpiled the pills her doctor had prescribed to help her sleep, keeping them side-by-side in the kitchen cabinet with the unopened bottle of bourbon she'd picked up one afternoon at the liquor store. Every morning, she'd opened the cabinet and stood there for a good long time, fifteen minutes, half an hour, two hours on one occasion, just staring at her supplies, and every time, she'd shut the door again, leaving them inside. 

She'd wanted to be dead, longed to be at peace, but she just couldn't do it. There was something inside her--a sense of self-preservation or some leftover religious feeling, something--that prevented her from just doing it. There was a part of her that _wanted_ to live, that kept whispering _not yet_. She'd thought it would all come together when she found the place where her Sentinel had died, when she'd lain on the same spot and experienced his death. But now she'd done this, and the irresistible pulse inside her that insisted on surviving just kept beating on and on. 

_How can you settle for existing when you've known what it is to truly live?_

She watched the sun sinking low on the horizon, the long shadows falling over the mountains, the last glimmers of daylight dying in the trees. She'd already had her tin of soup, heated up on the camp stove she'd bought in town when she figured out this wasn't going to be her final resting place. She slipped into the sleeping bag and zipped it up, laying her head on the backpack she used for a pillow. She stared at the ceiling. //Why?// It was the same question she always asked. She had never believed in coincidence or accidents. She felt there must be a reason why she was still here. There must be some purpose. There must be something left undone, something ahead of her, if only she could figure out what. 

_Maybe you can't go back to the old life once you know the difference. Maybe that's just not possible. But maybe there is another way besides dying. Maybe you could go on living the extraordinary life._

That thought reverberated through her. //Of course.// She just hadn't seen it before, so lost in all that blinding grief. 

_Maybe there is another._

For the first time in two years, she could feel her body vibrating with life, the first stirring of warmth returning to her frozen soul. She had not been there for her Sentinel when he needed her, but perhaps she was being given a second chance. Perhaps there was another of their kind out there who was as lost and alone as she was, who would need her like her husband once had, who would give her a reason to keep on living. //But how? Where?// 

_Go back to the beginning._

The realization jolted through her like electricity. She kicked off the sleeping bag in a frenzy and jumped up, gathering her meager belongings in a mad dash. She should have thought of it before. //Of course. Of course.// Why hadn't she seen it? 

She would go back to where it had all started. She would begin again. 

* * *

The childish giggle reverberated through the loft, and Jim tried to ignore it. He'd hoped that his hallucinations might improve when morning came, but instead, they had grown steadily worse. Now, his imagination had gotten unleashed, and he was seeing things he didn't even recognize, not memories, but out-and-out delusions, like the curly headed boy, with the large, round blue eyes who was frolicking around the loft like it was his own personal playground. 

"Come and find me!" the boy's thin, reedy voice called to him, as he darted between the sofas. 

"No," he said. 

"It's hide-and-seek. You _have_ to look for me." 

"No, I don't." 

The child came from behind the sofa to stand in front of him. Jim was no expert on kids, but he thought the boy was probably four or five years old. He was definitely no one Jim had ever known, not some victim of a horrific crime he'd investigated, at least not that he could remember. That was a relief. 

"You're no fun. Why don't you want to play?" the child asked, watching him curiously. 

"I'm not feeling too well." 

"'Cause he's not here, right?" 

Jim didn't answer; he just pressed his lips together in a thin, stubborn line. This was one subject he had no intention of discussing, not even with his own diseased imagination. He shivered and wrapped his arms around himself. He hadn't moved in two days, not to eat, not to sleep, shower, change clothes, use the bathroom, not for any reason. He no longer had the strength. It was getting close now. He could feel himself gradually growing colder, hear his heart beat becoming sluggish. He didn't have the energy left to resist, and now he was just waiting for it to be over. 

"You smell," the kid said, pointing an accusing finger at him. 

"Excuse me?" 

"Really, really stinky. Hey, you've got poop in your pants!" The boy broke into peals of shrill laughter. "Look at the little baby, made a mess in his britches. Do you need a diaper? Huh, little baby?" The child's voice taunted him in the sing-songy rhythm of the kindergarten playground. 

"If you don't get the hell away from me, I'll..." 

"What? What are you gonna do? I don't think you're gonna do anything. I don't think you can or maybe you just don't want to. Why are you just sitting there anyway?" The boy glared at him, the thin arms crossed over his narrow chest. "I don't know why you let him get lost in the first place. Now we have to go find him and bring him back." 

"I don't want to talk about Blair! Now, get out!" 

"Uh-uh." 

"You're not real." 

The child's face flushed with anger, and he stamped his foot. "Am too! I belong here as much as you do." 

"Well, I don't want you around." 

"You do, too. You'd be _really_ lonely without me. You're just all grumpy, because he went away. If you're gonna go get him, you're really gonna have to stink less. People don't like it." 

"I'm not going anywhere." 

"Why not? Are you scared? Huh? Don't you want him back?" 

"He doesn't...he doesn't want to be here," Jim said, his voice catching in his throat. 

The child came closer, looking him hard in the eye. "Yeah, he does. But you made him go away. So now you have to let him know that it's okay to come back. See?" 

"I don't know where he is." 

"I do. I'll tell you when you don't smell anymore." 

"You're just a hallucination." 

"What's a ha-nu-ci-la-shun?" 

"Never mind." 

"So are you gonna take a bath?" 

"I guess so." 

The little boy jumped up and down. "Yeah! Yeah! We're gonna go get him back! Yeah!" 

Jim felt his entire body clench; all that enthusiasm reminded him so much of Blair. A jagged wave of agony tore through him. Oh God, he missed Blair. 

The child drew even closer, and Jim could have sworn he felt the feathery light pressure of the small hand as it reached out to touch his shoulder. "Come on," the boy said quietly, almost solemnly. "He's waiting." 

* * *

Blair could not stay still, no matter how hard he tried. He was so worried about Jim he practically vibrated with it, and the waiting, the not knowing, was every kind of hell rolled up into one. 

It certainly hadn't improved his outlook when he talked to Simon and found out that Jim hadn't been to work in two days because his senses were really acting up. Simon had sounded so surprised that he didn't know where Jim was, that he wasn't home at the loft, that he hadn't known a thing about Jim's problem. That made him feel like shit. He should have been there for his Sentinel. He should never have let this whole thing get so out of hand. He'd known there was something serious going on with Jim. He'd just thought he could let Jim deal with it in his own time, at his own pace. He'd never guessed how much his partner was suffering. 

Jim was supposed to be the one into denial, but _he_ hadn't allowed himself to process what Jim had done, to see that he'd broken the bond between them--because he just hadn't been able to handle it. But now Jim might...and oh God, he wished he'd done things so very differently. 

//No! He's going to be fine. You've got to stay centered, be positive. Simon will find him and bring him to San Francisco, even if he has to drag his ass down here against his will. You just don't mess with Simon. He's one determined police captain. Everything's going to be fine.// 

He only half believed it, but it helped to keep thinking it. //Fake it 'til you make it.// He'd read that somewhere, in some waiting room magazine, about projecting yourself with confidence in any situation. It was good advice. If he couldn't actually be certain, he could at least pretend. 

Blair sat on the couch, poised by the phone, willing it to ring. Simon had gone over to the loft to check on Jim and promised to call as soon as he knew anything. //Ring, damn you! Ring!// The waiting was going to kill him. He tried every trick in the book to manage his anxiety. He counted to a hundred by threes and back down again. He did breathing exercise after breathing exercise. He recited the Greek alphabet in his head. None of it helped. 

He closed his eyes tightly and rubbed his temples. He was beginning to get a headache. He relaxed his body and put himself into a meditative trance, hoping this would calm him. A fragmentary picture flashed suddenly onto the movie screen in his mind. It was an image of himself, dressed in a dark suit, standing somewhere outside. In his imagination, he looked down at his feet and could see neatly trimmed grass and dirt. There were other people crowding around him--Simon, Rafe, Megan, Brown, Samantha and so many others. But he couldn't find Jim. He kept looking around for his partner, searching, desperate for even a small glimpse of him. 

His friends all surrounded him, had their hands on his arms, under his elbows, holding him up. But he didn't want them. He wanted Jim. The people surrounding him were all talking to him, but he couldn't understand their words. He tried so hard to ask them where his partner was, but there was such a burning, painful feeling in his throat. It was closed tight with some bleak emotion, and he couldn't get out any of the words he wanted so desperately to say. 

The image shifted slightly, like a movie camera pulling back, revealing the wider scene, and he could finally see what lay before him. It was a low mound of fresh, dark earth, recently turned over, covered in arrangements and bouquets of flowers, all the beautiful colors. And he knew what it was, _who_ it was. He'd finally found his partner. His Jim. 

"NOOOOO!!!" he screamed at the top of his lungs, jolting himself out of the trance, gasping for breath. 

"Are you all right?" a very soft, girlish voice asked him. 

He looked up to find Elena, the young Guide, regarding him with large brown eyes filled with alarm. Clare, her Sentinel, was just a few steps behind her, and even though she was a study in coolness, he could see that she was also concerned. 

//Great! Now I'm scaring teenage girls. I really need to get it together, or I'm not going to be any good to Jim when we do find him.// 

He took a deep centering breath. "I'm fine. I just fell asleep and had a little bit of a nightmare. Sorry I startled you." 

Elena drew closer. "You're worried about your friend, aren't you?" 

He didn't trust himself to speak, so he nodded. 

"Is there anything we can do to help?" she asked, touching his arm lightly, her voice filled with compassion. 

"What exactly do you think we _could_ do?" Clare asked, dismissively. 

"Shut up! I am so sick of you and your attitude." 

"Well, I'm sick of your kissing up to every grown-up in a five mile radius." 

"I am _not_ kissing up, just because I'm not a _bitch_ like you. Just because I can think of somebody besides myself." 

"Then you're a fool, because believe me, nobody is ever going to think about you. It's just not the way it works. It's a dog eat dog world out there, and naive little flowers like you get trampled on. Trust me." 

"So I'm not a hard ass the way you are. As far as I'm concerned, that's a relief." 

"No, you're more like a..." 

"That's enough!" Elizabeth said, coming into the room. "I've had it with the bickering. Let's just try to give it a rest for five minutes. We have more important things to worry about right now." 

Both girls looked chastened. "Sorry," Elena mumbled. 

"Yeah," Clare said. 

Elizabeth sighed. "It's all right. I'm sorry I raised my voice. We're just a little concerned about our friend right now." 

"He's a Sentinel like us?" Clare asked. 

Elizabeth nodded. 

"What's wrong with him?" the girl asked. 

Blair felt himself clench, and Elizabeth put her hand on his shoulder. "He's having a problem with his senses, and we're concerned he may not realize how serious it is, that he needs help." 

Clare paled visibly. "That happens?" 

Elizabeth chose her words carefully. "It's not a common experience, and it's not something you should be worried about. Jim has been separated from his Guide, and it's had an ill effect on him." 

"You're his Guide?" Elena asked Blair. 

"Yes," he said, his voice a little shaky. 

"I'm sorry about your Sentinel," Elena said. 

"Thank you," he said. 

"Why were you separated?" Clare asked. 

Blair could feel himself panicking, not knowing how to answer that. 

Elizabeth put her arm around the girl's shoulders. "It's a long story and private," she told her. 

Clare's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Did you leave him?" she asked him and then turned back to Elizabeth. "I thought Guides weren't supposed to do that. That's what you said. Sentinels and Guides are together forever," the girl said, becoming upset. 

"Blair didn't leave Jim," Elizabeth said. "And the fact that Sentinels and Guides have a lifelong commitment to one another doesn't mean that there will never be rough spots. There are problems in every relationship." 

"Jim could _die_ , couldn't he?" she demanded, fear seeping into her voice. 

Blair grabbed onto the arm of the sofa, holding on so tight he knew his knuckles must be white. He could feel Elizabeth's Sentinel senses on him, taking in his vital signs, registering his distress. "As I said before, it is serious, and we do need to get him help." 

"See? I knew it. That's what always happens when you trust people, when you let them get to you. It makes you weak. It puts you in danger," Clare said. 

"That's not true," Elizabeth argued. 

"If Jim had just taken care of his senses by himself, this never would have happened. He'd be _fine_ now," Clare persisted. 

"You always want to make everything the Guide's fault," Elena said. "But Sentinels aren't perfect. Maybe Jim didn't listen to Blair, and that's why it happened." 

"You know what? Right now, we need to focus on Jim and Blair, and this really isn't helping. So why don't we discuss it later?" Elizabeth said. 

"Fine," Clare said, crossing her arms over her chest, defiant and angry. "But I'm _never_ going to need anybody like that, and there's nothing you can do to make me." She stomped out of the room. 

"Like I _want_ to be your Guide. You couldn't even pay me!" Elena screamed after her. 

"She doesn't mean it, Elena. She's just scared," Elizabeth tried to soothe her. 

"She does too mean it. She doesn't _like_ me!" the girl insisted, her lip trembling and tears beginning to form in her eyes. "And if she doesn't want me as her Guide, that's just fine then!" she said, storming off in the opposite direction that Clare had gone. 

Elizabeth wilted onto the sofa beside Blair, rubbing her eyes tiredly. "I'm sorry about that." 

He shook his head. "They're just kids." 

"Teenagers," she corrected. "And everything's about them whether it actually is or not." 

"It must be pretty scary for them. I mean, I'm not sure I would have wanted to know that this...whatever this is...could happen between Sentinels and Guides. I'm pretty sure it would have scared the pee out of me, and I'm an adult." 

Elizabeth looked pensive. "Sam says I'm not patient enough with them. We had one spectacular fight over that." 

Blair smiled slightly. "Now you've gone and blown my image of you guys. I thought you were 'Super Couple' and never fought." 

Elizabeth smiled back at him. "Yeah, right. Actually, fighting is a healthy thing, or at least it usually is. It means both people are standing up for themselves in the relationship. But Sam and I got into it over the girls because he was right and I didn't want him to be. It hurt my professional pride and went against the grain of who I like to think I am that I wasn't being compassionate enough with scared young girls." 

"I have a hard time believing that's true." 

Elizabeth shook her head. "I don't know, Blair. Maybe it's just that I hated being a teenager so much. I guess I've kind of closed away that part of my life, which makes it really hard for me to relate to how Clare and Elena feel, even though logically I can understand it." 

"I'm sure it doesn't help that it brings back all the stuff about Alex Barnes." 

"No, it sure as hell doesn't. I know I said this before, but it makes me really worried about my own daughter. I mean, what kind of mother am I going to be if I can't relate to adolescents? Sometimes I really find myself wishing that Carla would never grow up, that she'd stay a baby forever." 

Blair put a hand on her arm. "I think a lot of parents feel that way. It's a kind of nostalgia. And when they're little, it's easier to protect them." 

Elizabeth nodded. "I just don't want Carla to have to struggle the way Clare and Elena are, but of course, I know it's not possible to prevent that." 

"No, you're right. It's not," Blair said. "But I honestly do think that Clare and Elena will be fine. Clare really is just scared, like you said. And Elena is hurt that Clare won't accept her--the Guide instinct at work--and that's probably very confusing, since she can't figure out why it's so important to her that a girl she doesn't even know like her." 

"I think that's another reason I have trouble relating. I didn't have any problems accepting Sam. I just knew he was the one, that it was right. And I was so damned grateful to him for being able to help me with my senses, for giving me some control over them. I mean, Sam really saved me. It's always been such a simple formula for me: Guide equals a good thing." 

Blair shook his head. "Not Jim. He fought me tooth and nail pretty much every step of the way for years. My helping him made him feel really out of control." 

"But he was _already_ out of control with his senses going crazy." 

"Yeah, well, Jim's not always the most perfectly logical guy in the world. Now that I think of it, if he were here, he might actually be able to help Clare. I really think he could relate to her," Blair said and then the weight of the situation hit him again. He rubbed his face, the tension returning full force. 

//Where the hell are you, Jim?// 

The loud _brrng_ of the phone nearly caused him to jump out of his skin. He grabbed it. "Hello?" 

"Blair?" 

"Simon, thank God! Did you find him?" 

"I'm afraid not. I found the front door unlocked and the loft empty. But everything's pretty much in place, and it doesn't look there was a struggle or anything." 

Blair tried to be as calm as possible. "Simon, Jim's in real trouble. It's absolutely imperative that we find him." 

"Okay, Sandburg, try to take it easy. I'm going to find him, I promise." 

"Hey, man, I can't help it if I'm pretty fucking terrified here. Jim could be out there somewhere _dying_. Forgive if I'm not able to take it easy." 

Simon's voice gentled. "I didn't mean you shouldn't be upset. We just need to stay calm, so we can find him." 

He breathed deeply and worked to calm himself down. "I'm sorry, Simon. I didn't mean to take it out on you. I'm just really, really worried about him." 

"It's okay, kid. I know it's tough on you. I'll put out an APB on Jim and contact all the local hospitals, see if he's turned up. Can you think of anywhere he might have gone that I could check out?" 

"The only places I can think of are his favorite fishing hole and camping spots up in the forest. And I hope to God he hasn't gone out there," Blair said, the cold terror beginning to take him over once more, realizing that if Jim had retreated to the mountains to clear his head there was a good chance he'd never see him again. 

"Try to keep calm, Sandburg. We'll do everything we can to find him. I put Rafe and Brown on it. Megan too. What do I do when we find him?" 

"If he's in any kind of shape to travel, we need to get him down here to San Francisco. If not, then I'll be on the first flight to Cascade." 

"Got it," Simon said. 

"And Simon, could you...I really need to know whatever you find as soon as you find it. I just...I can't stand this not knowing. It's driving me crazy." 

"I understand, Blair," Simon said softly. "I'll keep you informed. I promise." 

"Thanks, man." 

Blair hung up, and Elizabeth put her hand on his arm to steady him. 

"You heard?" he asked. 

She nodded. 

"What if they can't find him?" 

"We can't think that way. Captain Banks is very good at what he does, and he knows Jim very well. If anyone can find him, he can." 

"Oh God, I hope so, Elizabeth," he said, unable to contain the sob that escaped him. "Because if anything happens to him, it will be all my fault." 

"You know that's not true." 

"I just wish I was there for him, with him. I hate the thought of him alone and hurting." 

She squeezed his arm. "I know." 

"I want my Sentinel back, Elizabeth. I want things the way they were. I just hope it's not too late." 

* * *

Every step Jim took was like trying to walk at the epicenter of an earthquake. The ground just wouldn't stay still beneath his feet. After a while though, he'd kind of figured out how to compensate for it, leaning into the twists and curves like he'd learned to do when he'd taken up riding motorcycles. For the most part, he thought he was managing not to look too much like a drunk or a crazy person, although the cab driver had given him a funny look. Of course, his eyes wouldn't focus correctly, and he'd just had to guess how much money to hand the man. He had the sneaking suspicion it was the biggest tip of the driver's career. 

The airport teamed with activity, and the commotion was torture to his disordered senses. He stopped a moment and leaned against the wall, closing his eyes tightly, trying to dial everything down, attempting every exercise Blair had ever taught him for controlling his senses, all to no avail. It still hurt like hell. He really didn't know if he could do it or not, if he could make it. 

"You're not just going to give up, are you?" a familiar voice demanded. 

He opened his eyes and saw the boy standing next to him, one hand on his hip, obviously exasperated with him. 

"Do you think this is easy?" he snapped. 

The boy rolled his eyes. "You're supposed to be this big strong man, the _Sentinel_ , and you're gonna let a little noise stop you?" 

"I'm doing the best I can here, kid." 

"Well, it's not good enough. We have to go find him, so you need to get on the plane." 

"All right, all right. Geez, you're a bossy little kid. Did anybody ever tell you that?" 

The boy smiled brightly. "I'm just like my daddy." 

"I can't imagine what a stubborn son of a bitch he must be," Jim mumbled beneath his breath. 

"I heard that!" the boy said. 

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Which way to the ticket counter?" 

"Over there," the kid pointed. 

"Okay. Thanks," he said. 

He turned to head in that direction when he noticed an elderly woman staring at him. //Oh, great! I'm talking to my hallucination in public. I'll be lucky if they even sell me a ticket.// 

Fortunately, he managed to hold it together long enough not to alarm the ticketing agent. Of course, the first plastic card he pulled out of his wallet was actually his insurance card, but he laughed it off as some subconscious fear of flying. The next one was a credit card, and the agent completed the transaction, handing him the ticket. He tucked it into his inside jacket pocket and began making his way to the gate. 

"See?" the kid said, appearing again, walking with him. "It wasn't as hard as you thought, was it?" 

"Kid, if you keep talking to me and I keep answering you, there's no way they're ever going to let me on that plane." 

"They can't see me?" the boy asked. 

Jim shook his head. 

The child whooped with delight and began sticking out his tongue at everyone he passed, laughing and making fun of them. "This is _great_!" 

"Behave yourself," Jim told him. 

"Ahhh, you're not fun at all," the boy complained. "Just for that, I'm not going to keep you company. You can just take the boring old flight all by yourself." 

And just as mysteriously as he'd appeared, the child was gone. 

Jim shook his head. //If I actually make it to San Francisco, it will be one hell of a miracle.// 

He carefully navigated his way to the gate, only bumping into one trash can in the process, which he thought was pretty good, considering every sense was misfiring like crazy and he was operating pretty much on guess work. He sank down onto a chair near the gate and waited until they called his flight. 

//Just hang on, Chief. I'm coming.// 

Continued in part [two](progeny1.html).


	2. Chapter 2

Due to the length of this story, it has been split into five parts.

## Progeny

by Annabelle Leigh

Continued from part one.

* * *

Progeny - part two  


She hadn't been entirely sure that people would still be able to see her. She'd been dwelling amongst shadows and memories so long, seeing things, knowing things she never should have been able to, that she no longer felt real or solid to herself, rather like an apparition, something without form, something that could be looked right through. But they could, in fact, see her, and they noticed nothing out of the ordinary. To them, she was just another middle-aged woman, another ordinary face with its wrinkles and worry lines, another aging body in sensible shoes, so very unremarkable, another traveler at the busy airport, going somewhere, for some reason. No one cared. 

Life was full of surprises. Perhaps more than anything else, it was shocking how misaligned the inner world and the outer appearance could be. It was troubling really. You could walk through the valley of death, survive trial by fire, journey to the edge of the earth and back, and no one would ever know unless you told them. They would never recognize you for who you truly were, because they got so lost in the misleading labyrinth of what you appeared to be. 

Yes, life was always surprising, so very unpredictable. A few weeks ago, she never would have guessed any of this--that she could clean up so well, that she'd have the wherewithal to manage this far, making her way into town, hailing a cab, being able to string enough words together for people to understand her. But here she was, and the world was just the same as she'd left it. Her absence from life had been as unremarkable as her reappearance in it. 

She clutched her ticket in her hand and put her small suitcase on the conveyor belt to send it through the x-ray machine. It still amazed her that she'd had no problem making the reservation or getting the ticket. She'd just given the man her money, and he'd given her the paper envelope with everything she needed inside it. She didn't know why there was a small part of her that expected to be rejected, disapproved, sent away. Some nagging little voice just wouldn't stay quiet. 

//Maybe I really shouldn't be going back there. Maybe that's not the right answer. Maybe I need to try again to get on with my life and let all of that go.// She shook her head violently, ruthlessly pushing away the doubt. The security guard stared at her oddly for a moment, but let her pass anyway. //It's not a crime to be a little unusual. Still, I need to be more careful. Remember, appearances are important.// 

After her Sentinel had died, she'd had no desire to go back, to see the others, to communicate with Dr. Knowlton. The doctor had called numerous times, left messages, written her letters, but she'd never answered any of them. She just couldn't face her. She wasn't sure what she would do or say if she did. She knew Dr. Knowlton hadn't purposefully betrayed them, hadn't given those people the information on her husband, that the doctor had, in fact, suffered the same torment as her own beloved Sentinel. 

But she was still alive and with her Guide, whole, part of the tribe, with everything ahead of her. That was what she could never forgive the doctor for, or any of them really. It made her feel like even more of an outcast than she already was. They had what she wanted so badly, the vital connection that was the only thing that could warm the sick chill inside her, the one thing she would never have again. 

//Stop it. You don't know that for sure. There could still be a chance. I could still be a Guide again. It's not too late. It can't be.// 

She needed to go back to the beginning, to where it had all started, to the source. It brought back memories of her first such journey. It had all been such a mystery then, thrilling, a little confusing. She hadn't had any idea what was pulling her, but it had been irresistible, a siren voice, calling her to her Sentinel. She'd never been to a city before. She'd barely been out of the little town where she'd been born, just four years away at the state college a few towns over, a vacation or two to the lakes up north, and once to the mountains in the bordering state. But she'd never been anywhere like San Francisco. 

The bus ride had taken three days. She'd been fascinated the whole way, watching the country change, the flat grassy plains giving way to mountains and lakes, becoming dusty deserts, and finally, at the end of the long ride, the ocean on the horizon, so blue and vast, a sight she'd never expected to see for herself. She'd gotten off the bus in San Francisco and had been dizzied by the sheer volume of life around her, all its endless variety, the kids with their wild, spiky hair in every conceivable color, the beautiful young men with their arms twined around the waists of other beautiful young men, the busy wharf area with the strong smell of fish in the air, the cable cars with people hanging off them just like she'd seen in the movies. 

It was so unlike anything she'd ever experienced. It was so much more than she could have imagined. Right then and there, even before she'd found her Sentinel, it was as if a door opened before her, revealing a whole landscape of possibilities that had been hidden before, her first inkling that there was so much more to the world, to life, to the universe than anyone had ever led her to believe. 

Looking back on it, she realized that it probably should have seemed terrifying or at least overwhelming. But she'd been starry eyed and innocent, so very young in experience, if not in body; knowing no one and nothing about the city hadn't deterred her. She'd come simply because the instinct had called her. She had no plans, nowhere to stay. She didn't even have a map and had no idea where to get one. But the irresistible impulse was still inside her. It was like a homing beacon, and suddenly she'd just had the urge to walk. So she'd walked and walked and walked. She hadn't known where she was going, but her feet seemed to be taking her in a specific direction. They'd carried her onward, purposefully, unhesitatingly, until finally she'd arrived outside Dr. Knowlton's office, just knowing that destiny was waiting for her inside, even if she hadn't really understood what that meant at the time. 

She hadn't truly gotten it until she walked through the door into Dr. Knowlton's waiting room and found her Sentinel there, expecting her. The recognition had been like a fireworks display lighting up the sky on the Fourth of July. This was what she'd been looking for all her life, at long last. He'd stood there in the middle of the room, staring at her as if he'd never truly seen before, and she'd realized that something was wrong. She hadn't paused, hadn't stopped to call for help. The Guide instinct had already been inside her, and she'd simply stepped forward and put her hand on the side of his head. If she closed her eyes and concentrated, she could still feel what that was like, the frisson of heat passing between them, the surge of super-charged energy, the connection already forming as she brought her Sentinel out of a zone for the first time. 

She'd realized even then that the indescribable pulse that passed between them was a form of communication, of communion. It carried so many things--a sense of belonging, the meaning of family, overriding purpose, erotic longing--the many things that would bind them together, that would remake their individual existences into one, unified life. 

Nothing had ever been that right before. Or since. 

Now she was going back to the source. Now she was trying to get it back again, that exquisite sense of wholeness. She knew no one else could ever be the Sentinel she had lost. She realized she would always mourn for him. But perhaps there could still be restoration for her weary heart. Perhaps, there was a reason, after all, why she was still alive. There just had to be. Perhaps she had not been cast out of the magic circle after all, but only moved to another place within it. Perhaps the darkness wasn't a life sentence, and she could step back into the light and heat once more. 

She was certain there _was_ a Sentinel out there, one who was vulnerable, a Sentinel in need, with only a tenuous connection to a Guide. Her instincts twitched and quivered with that knowledge. It was just like it had been years before, that first time the irresistible impulse had come over her. Something was pulling her. There was something she needed to do. 

"Flight 237 to San Francisco now boarding through Gate 12," a woman's voice announced over the intercom. 

She picked up her suitcase and folded her jacket over her arm, heading for the gate to board the plane. Yes, it was just like the other time, and she'd do the same thing she had back then. She'd heed the call, follow the voice, go to the source. 

And just maybe, she'd find a second chance to live the extraordinary life. 

* * *

If Jim had thought the commotion at the airport was disturbing, it was nothing compared to the roar and bustle of the city streets. His whole body felt like it was on fire, his senses consumed by holocaust. Worse yet, they had turned inward, and he was minutely aware of the motion of his own blood, the terrible heat generated by his cells, the sound of his bones and cartilage flexing and scraping as he walked. He swore he could even sense the action of his synapses as they fired. It was all far, far more than he'd ever wanted to know about himself. 

He stopped a moment to lean against the brick face of the building he was passing. It wasn't just rough against his skin; every minute indentation felt massive and cratered, like the surface of the moon. He closed his eyes and tried to breathe deeply. It took more effort than he could manage. He was way beyond exhausted now. 

How many times had he thought he would die without Blair? How many times had those very words floated through his head? It was many, many more than he could count. There was the Golden incident when he'd been ten different kinds of terrified for his Guide. The whole time he was trying to talk Blair into giving him the gun he was so supremely conscious of all the cops with weapons trained on Blair, just waiting to take him out at the least wrong move. These were some of the same guys he'd overheard complaining about the long-haired hippie who wasn't even a cop and working with one of their own like he owned the place. He knew there were at least a few of them who'd think it was good riddance if something happened to his partner. 

Even after he'd gotten the gun away, the ordeal had been far from over. He'd never forget sitting there on the cold concrete floor, cradling Blair in his arms, unable to even see him, waiting for the ambulance, or later in the hospital, how he'd sat by Blair's bedside, holding his hand, just praying he would wake up again, his same self, undamaged. 

He didn't make a habit of praying. In fact, before Blair had come into his life, he couldn't remember ever having paid much attention to God. But whenever his partner was in trouble, he wasn't above a little bargaining. //Just let him live. Please God. I'll die without him.// It was his mantra. He'd thought it when Lash had taken him and that mountain man lunatic had shot him during the standoff with Quinn, when Gustavo Alcante had threatened to burn him, when Blair was trapped on the elevator, when he'd found him in that god-forsaken fountain. //I'll die without him.// 

In fact, wasn't that really why he'd slammed Blair up against the wall that day in his office so long ago, way back at the very beginning? It hadn't been that he'd disbelieved or mistrusted him. No. In fact, that had been the problem. He'd walked into the room that day and every last instinct he had exploded with a sense of destiny. His heart had done a vertical leap inside his chest, out of recognition and sheer joy. He'd just known he was looking at the rest of his life standing there before him, this long-haired, counter-culture-embracing child of the revolution, this beautiful, intelligent, soul-stopping man he could never, ever, not even on his best day, hope to deserve. 

He'd had two choices that day: get into Blair's face like a macho asshole, the safe route, or get into his pants, what he'd really wanted, the not-nearly-so-safe but tons-more-fun choice. It wasn't the last time he'd made the same bad decision. He'd never wanted to need anyone that badly, like Blair was oxygen and he was...well, a carbon-based life form. He'd made a career out of resisting his Guide, arguing with him, refusing his help, failing to thank him for all his efforts and his endless devotion, pushing him away when he got spooked by the Sentinel thing, when he felt overwhelmed by how dependent he'd become on his Guide. Even after they'd become lovers, after he'd understood the bond between Sentinels and Guides, after they'd committed their lives to one another, he'd retained some of that stark terror at the dizzying depth of his own need. 

Now, as he held onto the side of the building with the last of his strength, his fear struck him as incredibly stupid. He'd let it get in the way far too often. He'd allowed it to come between them. And now he really was going to die without Blair. He was going to die alone and friendless in a city he didn't know, like some drifter who'd fallen through the chinks of life. He felt his knees buckling, and he didn't have the strength to resist. He sank to the ground, his face still pressed to the wall. //I should never have let it come to this, Chief. I should have trusted you. I should have accepted that you're the most important thing in the world to me. I should have talked to you, told you about all this shit I've been going through. I should have had faith that you'd understand.// 

"It doesn't have to be over yet. It's up to you to decide." 

The child's voice startled him out of his half-conscious delirium. 

"I can't make it," Jim told him sadly. 

"Yes, you can. You just have to stand up now. If you die, it's because you gave up, not because it was your time. They told me so." 

Jim shook his head. "I'm sorry, kid. Whoever _they_ are, this time they're wrong." 

The little boy sighed dramatically. "They're _never_ wrong. You're just stubborn." 

He smiled. The kid didn't pull any punches. He had to admire that in a pint-sized hallucination. 

"You can still be with him. You can still tell him all the things you wish you had," the boy said, tugging at his sleeve. "You just have to find him, and you're so close now. Please." 

The last word was said in a quavery voice, and Jim managed to focus his vision long enough to see that the boy's eyes were filling with tears and were very scared. He sighed heavily. Even though the child was only a figment of his own imagination, he couldn't turn off his overblown sense of responsibility. The last thing he wanted was to make a kid cry. 

"Okay," he said, making one last effort of will and pulling himself to his feet. 

The boy sniffled slightly, but was smiling now. "See! I knew you could do it," he said, clapping his hands together with happiness. "Come on, it's this way. Just another block now. You can do it!" 

"All right, kid. Go on. I'm coming." 

The boy danced around by his side, taking his hand and skipping. "See? Aren't you glad you didn't give up? It's not so bad, right?" 

"Sure, kid, whatever you say," Jim lied. Every step, even the slightest movement, was hell on earth. 

"It's that one," the boy said, pointing to a large, white, three-story Victorian. 

Jim hesitated. He had no way of knowing if this was really the right house or if Blair was even there. In his confusion, he'd trusted in the boy implicitly, even though he was finally nothing more than a product of his own delusions. It was only now that he realized how truly foolish that had been. 

"Go on," the boy nudged him slightly. "They're waiting for you inside." 

Jim thought a moment. //Weird shit is always happening with this Sentinel thing. Maybe this is some kind of spirit vision, help from a higher source. Besides, I'm too tired to go any further.// He stumbled and lurched up the steep flight of stairs, weaving back and forth as he went, needing every ounce of concentration just to stay on his feet. He was about to bang on the door when it suddenly opened, and he was falling forward into darkness. 

He expected to hit something hard--wood or tile, marble or brick. Instead, he found himself cushioned against something warm and soft--and delicious smelling. Blair had caught him before he hit the ground. He nuzzled closer, trying to bury his face in the folds of his Guide's shirt, the sweet curve of his neck, the heavy, thick fall of his hair, the Blair-scent a balm to his riotous senses. //Thank you, God. Thank you for letting me find him.// 

"Jim? Jim! Are you all right? Oh my God! Come on, say something." 

Jim could clearly hear the panic in Blair's voice, but when he tried to open his mouth, tried to form words and speak them, nothing came out. His mind was a jumble from the bedlam of his senses, and he had to battle just to retain consciousness. 

"Let's get him upstairs and put him to bed." 

He recognized the low, level tone of Elizabeth's voice. 

"Come on, Jim," Blair said, struggling to get them both to their feet. 

"Let me help you," Sam said, his slight Southern accent echoing in Jim's head. 

The two men heaved him up off the floor, supporting his weight between them, and moved him toward the staircase. 

"Is he going to be all right?" a voice asked, one he didn't recognize, young and female. 

"Yes, Elena, he's going to be fine," Elizabeth said. "We just need to get him reconnected with his Guide." 

"He doesn't _look_ fine," a different young voice said, in a challenging tone. 

It made Jim smile. Whoever this girl was, she seemed to have a "prove it to me" philosophy that he recognized all too well. 

"He's been through a lot, Clare. But now that he's here, we can help him." 

"Yeah, right, whatever you say," the girl answered, clearly not accepting Elizabeth's explanation. 

Jim closed his eyes. //Must be a young Sentinel and Guide pair and quite a challenge it seems. Elizabeth and Sam really have their hands full with all four of us here.// 

The trip up the stairs was one of the more harrowing adventures of his life. His equilibrium was completely shot, and he had no idea which way was up. There was more than one scary moment when he leaned back when he thought he was leaning forward, and all three of them nearly went tumbling down the stairs. The inside of his head was filled with a loud pounding noise, like high tide beating against the shore, accompanied by a symphony of jackhammers. His sense of touch had completely conked out, and that made it even more difficult to climb the stairs. 

"Hang on, man. We've got you now. We're going to get through this together," Blair said, his tone low and calm, the Guide voice, right next to his ear. 

"We're almost there. You can do it, Jim," Sam encouraged him, also using the Guide voice. 

//It's like a Guide sandwich.// The thought cracked him up, but when he tried to laugh, it came out as something much more agonized than that, the low, wounded wail of a dying animal. 

"Shit! We need to get him to bed. Now!" Blair said, beginning to panic. 

"In here," Elizabeth said. 

The world tilted, as Blair and Sam turned him to the left and guided him into a bedroom. He could feel the surface beneath his feet change from the smooth, polished slickness of hardwood floors to the soft nubbiness of a rug. 

Sunlight flooded the room at a low angle through the windows, right into his eyes. "Ahhhh!" he screamed, shutting his eyes tight, hiding his head in his hands. 

"I got it," Elizabeth said, pulling the blinds. 

The room listed, and he felt the soft springiness of the mattress beneath his back. He curled into a fetal ball. The room echoed with a low, keening noise, which he finally realized was coming from him, but he didn't know how to stop it. 

"What do we need to do?" Blair asked, with urgency. 

"You need to stay with him. He needs to reattach his senses to you to get them grounded. But start off easy and take it slowly. Too much input could be a shock to his system, and I don't think he can take too much more of that right now." 

"I can do that." He heard his Guide say, and then the mattress dipped slightly. He could sense the weight and heat of Blair's body on the other side of the bed. 

"Begin with hearing and smell. They seem to be functioning the best right now," Elizabeth said. "Leave touch and taste for last. They'll be harder to handle." 

"That makes sense," Blair agreed. 

Jim could _feel_ his Guide watching him, even if his own vision wasn't working well enough for him to focus on Blair's face. 

"Did you hear that, Jim? We're going to work on getting your senses back on line. I'm going to hold off touching you for a while, even though there's nothing I'd like more right now than to take you in my arms. But I don't want to make this worse. I don't want to hurt you. Do you understand?" 

He wanted to answer, but the words still wouldn't form on his lips. So he tried grunting instead, hoping it sounded like an acknowledgment. 

"That's great, Jim. You're doing good. We're going to have you as good as new before you know it," his Guide said. 

"I'm going to get a pitcher of water and a cup," Elizabeth said. "He looks like he might be a little dehydrated. Get him to drink as much as possible, but just little sips at a time. I'll also bring up some soup. If his senses have been like this for a couple of days, I doubt he's had much to eat." 

"What else should I do?" Blair asked, sounding scared. 

"Just what you're doing now. That's what he needs, to be with you. As he seems to be getting better, you can add more stimuli." 

"How will I know when he's ready?" 

"You're his Guide, Blair. Rely on your intuition. You'll know better than anyone else possibly could. We'll give you some privacy now. I'll be back in a few minutes with the water and the soup. If you need anything, all you have to do is call. I'll hear you. Or Clare will." 

"Thanks, Elizabeth." 

Jim heard the soft whooshing of the bedroom door as it closed. He felt Blair settle back down on the bed, close but just outside touching range, not that he really had the strength to reach for his Guide anyway. Now that he was beside Blair again, his senses, his whole body, felt itchy, like a wound in the process of healing, like the pins-and-needles sensation he got when the blood returned to his leg after it had fallen asleep. It didn't hurt exactly. It was just a crawling, restless, stinging kind of discomfort. At least the hallucinations were gone; that was a huge relief. 

"I missed you, Jim," Blair said. "And, God, when I figured out that something was really wrong, I was so unbelievably worried. Elizabeth didn't know if...God, I'm just so glad to see you. You know how much I love you, right? The past few months have been sheer hell, man. I can take a lot of things in life, but I _can't_ take your not touching me. I can't have that. You've always touched me, way before we slept together, before we even fell in love. Or maybe we've always been in love. I don't know. Sometimes, it kind of seems that way. Anyway, when you're better and we've had a chance to talk all this out and get it all straight, I'm going to make you promise me, man. You never _ever_ stop touching me again. Got it, big guy? I _really_ mean it. Whatever the problem is, we can fix it. Just don't tune me out. Okay?" 

Jim made the grunting sound again, and he could feel Blair's smile, even if he couldn't see it. 

"Good, big guy. I'm glad you see it my way." 

Jim felt the soft puffs of air on his face from Blair's words. He could sense the comforting heat emanating off him and leaned into it, seeking more of his Guide. Blair-scent enfolded him, sweat and spice, salty sweetness, plain and sturdy like all the best scents--the good earth after a summer rain, sun-dried sheets, cinnamon baking in an oven. 

Best of all, he could hear his Guide's heart beating, the rhythm that ruled his life, that created order out of chaos, that provided solace when all other comfort failed. God, how he had missed that simple sound, which to him was the very soul of the cosmos. 

As he listened to the sweet music of his Guide's pulse, he realized the full extent of his own exhaustion. It wasn't just the past two days when he hadn't slept. It was the last two months, the entire time he'd been separated from his Guide, not allowing himself to attune his body and mind to the life rhythm, that lovely sound, that made it possible for him to really rest. He felt so enormously relieved that the deprivation was finally over. He had his Guide back. His senses could have their fill of him. There would never be the need to deny them again. He would find some way to take care of the other problem. Never, never again would he break the connection with the man who was destined for him always and forever. 

Jim smiled to himself at that thought, because it sounded so much like something Blair would come up with. Blair was big on destiny, and maybe he'd been right all along. Certainly, something mysterious had led him back to his Guide. He let himself get lost in the tidal beating of Blair's heart, sleep blessedly overtaking him. 

* * *

Blair lay on his side, turned toward Jim, as close as he could get to his Sentinel without actually touching him. Jim's senses seemed much better, but Blair remained cautious. He wanted to go as slowly and carefully as possible with touch and taste. He didn't want his Sentinel to suffer any more than he already had. 

The sun had broken through on the horizon several hours ago, and light now beamed strongly through the windows, moving slowly across the floor as the sun rose higher in the sky. It was going to be another beautiful day. He thanked God that his Sentinel was here to see it, beside him once more, where he belonged. That thought was pretty exhilarating, and even though he hadn't slept at all last night, he still felt rejuvenated, relieved, happy. 

As Blair lay beside Jim, the urge to touch him was nearly overpowering. God, he'd missed him so much, not just the last four days, but those two long months when the bond between them had been broken. Now, he understood his strange lack of energy, the endless chill, the leaden apathy he'd been suffering all that time. It wasn't just depression, as he'd thought, but the actual physical effects of the severed connection with his Sentinel. He'd always known that the ties between Sentinel and Guide ran deep and were meant to last a lifetime, but it fascinated his scientist's brain to see nature taking such a firm hand to ensure that Watchman and Shaman stayed together, inextricably linked. 

He had trouble believing it had only been four days since he'd last seen Jim. It felt like an eternity. He couldn't look at him hard enough. He wanted to take him in and consume him, feast on him, fill himself with his Sentinel. That's really why he hadn't gone to sleep last night. If he'd shut his eyes, even for a moment, that would have been one less moment he had to spend watching his beloved. 

Jim was so very, very beautiful. He'd always loved the way Jim looked when he was at rest--so relaxed and trusting and open. It had been far too long since he'd been able to enjoy that. It was one of the many things he'd missed during their estrangement. Last night, as he'd lain there listening to his love's slow, steady breath moving in and out of his body, it was like he had become the Sentinel, watching over his mate, keeping him warm and safe and comfortable. It had felt like a sacred duty and a great privilege, and he'd at long last felt the ice thawing inside his chest, the frost giving way to the warming rays of love, the deep waters of his life running free and clear and untroubled again. 

It was perhaps the most relieved he'd ever been in his life. 

The long night had also given him plenty of time to think, and he'd put it to good use. Now that Jim was at peace once more, he realized what a very long time it had been since his partner had been truly relaxed. He tracked it back in his mind, and it was long before that night when the sex had just been sex. It had been building for months before that. He remembered how tense Jim was every night when they got home from work. They'd been putting in marathon hours for weeks on end, a run of bank robberies and then a series of harrowing child murders. Blair had just attributed Jim's tension to stress on the job. It seemed like a perfectly reasonable explanation at the time, but now he realized that it hadn't been the case at all. 

He should have known all along. None of the things he typically suggested to help Jim relax had worked--not guided meditation or back rubs, not herbal tea or hot showers together, nothing, except for sex. And even then, it wasn't just sex, but intercourse. Even after he'd blown Jim, he would still be wound tight as a spring with whatever strange tension was plaguing him. The only thing that seemed to bring any relief at all was for Jim to take him. He'd found it all rather flattering at the time. His partner couldn't do without him, wanted him so badly. Now that he was looking at in retrospect, it had been so unlike Jim, who had always been more romantic than predatory in his approach to sex. If Blair had been paying careful enough attention, he would have noticed the difference. He would have seen that his Sentinel felt out of control, but was too afraid to tell him, because it had to do with sex and Jim could still be rather hung up when it came to sexual matters. 

Blair was so lost in his thoughts and self-recriminations that he didn't notice that his partner was awake and scrutinizing him, a furrow wrinkling his brow. 

"Don't blame yourself. It's not your fault," Jim said, his voice still a little rough and unsteady from his ordeal. 

Blair started slightly and found pale blue Sentinel eyes fixed on him, absorbing data, reading him--and correctly, too. "How did you..." 

"You get this particular expression on your face when you're beating yourself up about something." 

Blair couldn't help smiling and snuggling a little closer. "Do you catalog all my expressions?" 

"Yes," Jim said simply. 

"So what does this one mean?" 

A slight glimmer of mischief danced in Jim's eyes. "It's one of the rarest ones of all. It means you don't know what to say next." 

"Hey!" Blair protested at Jim's teasing, with a smile, but then his expression turned serious." Maybe I do feel...I don't know, a little..." 

"Awkward?" Jim suggested and Blair nodded. "Me too, Chief. Me too." 

They both fell silent for a long moment. 

"I'm sorry," they said in unison. 

Jim shook his head. "I already told you it wasn't your fault. You don't have anything to be sorry for. I'm such an idiot. I really should have told you. I did finally figure that out, but by then, it was too late. You'd already gone. I'd already driven you away." 

"I was always going to come back. I just needed some time to...I don't know, get my head together, I guess. But I _would_ have come back, Jim. I swear. You have to believe me." 

Jim nodded. "I do believe you, Chief. I just don't know why you bother sometimes." 

Blair looked deeply into Jim's eyes. "Oh, I don't know, maybe because you're my life." 

"You deserve better," Jim said, very softly, closing his eyes against the pain. 

"Jim," Blair said, reaching for him, brushing his fingertips as lightly as possible across his cheek. 

Jim jumped anyway, a tremor passing through his entire body. 

"Oh God, I'm sorry!" 

"No, it's okay, Chief. It doesn't hurt. It's just so powerful. I don't know how to describe it. It's like my senses are really, really glad to see you again. But it's okay. Please touch me. I want to feel you." 

Blair didn't need more of an invitation than that. He moved closer, laying his head on the pillow beside Jim's, leaning in to his lover, absorbing Jim's heat and scent, letting his breath tease his Sentinel's sensitive skin. Jim groaned in the back of his throat. 

Blair propped himself up on one elbow and looked down at him. "Are you sure it's..." 

"Don't stop!" Jim said, frantically. 

"Okay, okay," he said, moving his hand lightly, gently over Jim's belly, only the thin cotton of the shirt separating his hand from Jim's skin. 

Jim's breath came in short puffs. "Yes, Chief. Feels so good." 

Blair was seized by the desire to touch every inch of Jim's body, and he began at the top, running his fingers through Jim's spiky hair, tracing the whorls of his ears, running the back of his hand along Jim's stubble-roughened jaw, mapping all the planes and angles of his face with shaking fingers. Jim trembled violently, his skin flushed everywhere Blair touched him, but he begged and pleaded for more whenever Blair hesitated. 

Blair got up on his knees, to gain better access, so he could continue his exploration, his reacquaintance with Jim's body. He put both his hands on Jim's throat, stroking beneath his chin with his thumbs. He could feel the action of the muscles as Jim swallowed and the dull thud of his heart beating. He moved on, tracing the collarbone, and then he used both hands to span Jim's broad, strong shoulders, massaging them gently. He slid his hands down his lover's arms, relishing the powerful feel of the muscles. He took both of Jim's hands, cradling them in his own, admiring the long, elegant fingers, as he always did. He lifted one of the hands to his mouth and kissed it, then looked at Jim questioningly. When his lover nodded, eyes wide and intent on him, he began sucking each finger in turn, deeply, thoroughly, erotically. Jim thrashed his head back and forth, making a series of high-pitched animal sounds in his throat, pounding his other hand into the mattress. 

Blair moved back to his lover's chest and ran his hands up and down it, feeling Jim's wonderful heat even through his clothes. He ducked his head and placed a single, reverent kiss on his belly. 

Jim's eyes were mere slits now, and his breathing came in fast, furious gulps. "Oh God, Chief. It's so good, so good. Almost too much." 

"Do you want me to stop?" 

Jim didn't seem to have enough breath to answer, but he shook his head wildly. Blair smiled and caressed his hips, kneading and stroking them, causing Jim to buck up, trying to rub himself against his Guide's body. Blair held him down and ignored his lover's hard cock. As much as he knew Jim was enjoying it, he didn't think they were ready for that much stimulation just yet. Besides, it was something of an ambition of his to make his lover come without even touching his erection. 

He stroked both his hands down Jim's legs, lingering on his thighs, which he lovingly teased. Even through the thick khaki of his pants, Jim was extremely sensitive there, and he gasped as Blair touched him. Blair kept at it until his love was wild with want, and then he moved on, to explore the hollows of the backs of his knees, the corded muscles of his calves, the bones of his ankles. Jim's feet were bare, and he pulled them into his lap, resting them on his thighs. Jim was whimpering now, a sound of pure pleasure and need. Blair massaged his feet, tickling the soles lightly, kissing the insteps. He looked up to make sure Jim was watching and found blue Sentinel eyes trained on him, feverish with desire. 

He smiled at him and lifted one of Jim's feet. "This is what I want to do to you, lover," he whispered in a hoarse, seductive voice, before taking the big toe into his mouth. He licked and sucked it, swirled his tongue around it like it was a piece of candy, using the edge of his teeth to tease, making love to it with his mouth, like he'd done to Jim's cock so many times in the past. 

It was more than Jim could handle after two months of Guide-less celibacy. He screamed at the top of his lungs and came in his pants. 

Blair sat back and gently lowered Jim's foot back to his lap again. "I love you," he said. 

Jim was still panting, coming down from the high of orgasm, but the light in his face said the sentiment was very much reciprocated. 

"I really missed you." 

"Missed you too, Chief," Jim managed to say. 

Blair continued to gently stroke the feet in his lap. "You know, there's never any reason for you to have to struggle with something alone, no matter what it is or how much you're afraid it's going to hurt or upset me. I'm really pretty tough, you know. And you're very, very much worth it." 

It was like watching a door open, the way Jim's expression changed, all the repressed emotions of the past two months tumbling out. Blair felt his heart constrict as he saw the full extent, the depth and breadth, of his Sentinel's sorrow. "I was ashamed," Jim whispered. 

"I know." 

"It was so...brutal, how I was thinking of you. It didn't even feel like I was me anymore. It was like something had a grip on me. Something..." 

"Primitive?" 

Jim frowned, considering. "Worse than that. Inhuman. Like an animal." 

Blair nodded, mulling that over. "And it started with wanting sex all the time?" 

Jim blushed hotly and couldn't quite look Blair in the eye, but he nodded. 

"Was it pheromones?" Blair asked. 

Jim shook his head. "I don't think so, Chief. I'm used to your pheromones by now. Besides, they make me feel good all over, tingly, affectionate, not out of control. And this...whatever this is...it doesn't make me feel good." 

Blair frowned, paying careful attention. "So does that mean you never felt satisfied when we had sex?" 

Jim shook his head. "No matter how many times I had you, I just couldn't get enough. It was _never_ enough. All I could ever think about was fucking you." 

Blair looked at him pensively. 

"What?" Jim asked. 

"You never say that." 

"What?" Jim asked again, even more puzzled. 

"Fucking. That's one of the first things I noticed about you, because it was _so_ not what I was expecting. I mean, you've been in the army, you're a cop, but you don't really curse very much. I've got a _really_ foul mouth compared to you, man. I always liked that about you. It was just so _Jim_ of you, so unstereotypical. It gives you...I don't know...a kind of dignity somehow." 

"That's me, Chief. Mr. Dignity," Jim said, smiling softly. 

Blair elbowed him lightly, but returned the smile. "Don't laugh! It's one of the things I love about you. Anyway, my point was that you never used to call it fucking. You rarely even refer to it as having sex. You almost always say making love when you're talking about us. In fact, you don't really like it when I call it fucking either. You cringe whenever I do. It's another one of those unexpected things about you, that you've got a romantic streak that's like a _mile_ wide." 

Jim pulled his lover closer. "I'm sorry, Chief. Maybe it's the fallout from the hallucinations, but I'm not seeing how this all relates. What does it matter what I call it?" 

"Anytime a person acts outside their normal pattern it's significant. The question is why does it feel like fucking now rather than making love?" 

Jim let out a half-strangled cry, and Blair could feel him flinch. "No, Chief, it's not like that. I didn't mean..." 

He stroked his lover's arm. "I know," he said soothingly. "I know you love me. I didn't mean to upset you. I'm just trying to understand." 

Jim shook his head. "But I haven't been acting very lovingly lately. You deserve so much better than that." 

Blair touched his face and gazed into his eyes. "Something's been going on with you, Jim. Probably something to do with the Sentinel thing. We just need to figure it out, man, so we can fix it. No more blame, huh?" 

"I don't know if...Blair, I need to ask you something," Jim said, his voice shaking. 

Blair felt himself stiffen at the anguished tone of his Sentinel's voice and held onto him more tightly. "Of course, man. Anything." 

"That night, that...the last time we were together...I don't really, I can't...it's all a big blank, a lot of it. Was it...were you...did I rape you, Blair?" 

Jim gazed up at him with large, terrified eyes, shimmering with tears, agony etched into every line of his face. 

"No!" Blair said, clutching Jim's hand, pressing it to his cheek. "How could you even think that?" 

Jim lightly stroked his cheekbone. "What else could I think? I'll never forget what it was like to come to and find you pinned beneath me, trapped, and your blood...oh God, your blood, Chief," Jim said, his voice catching. "I couldn't remember...doing that to you, not any of it. I knew you wouldn't have let me do that without some kind of struggle, and I just went ahead anyway. We both know that's rape." 

"I didn't struggle. I didn't tell you to stop," he said softly. 

"My God, Blair, why not?" Jim demanded. 

"I knew it wasn't you." 

"What?" 

"It wasn't you, man. Not the real you. Not _this_ you that I'm in bed with now. I could actually feel it when you changed that night. I mean, it was still you downstairs while we were fooling around on the sofa. It was you who led me upstairs, who took off my clothes, who got me ready. It was even you who entered me. But once you were all the way inside, it was like something took you over, some kind of _compulsion_ , like you were a machine programmed to fuck and nothing else mattered." 

Blair had never seen such unbearable pain on anyone's face. "You shouldn't make excuses for me, Blair. It _was_ me there that night. I'm the one who hurt you. Nobody else. Oh God, it sounds so inadequate, but I really am so, so sorry for what I did." 

"I know. You said so that night, and I already forgave you for it." 

"Oh Jesus, Blair, how can you possibly forgive me after that? How can you ever trust me again?" 

"Because you promised it wouldn't happen again, and I know you. It won't. That's why you nearly died yesterday, because you were keeping your word, keeping me safe." 

"Pulling away from you was the hardest thing I've ever done, but I couldn't think of any other way to protect you. Even after I'd hurt you so badly, I still wanted to...well, you know." 

"Before this, we didn't know what would happen if we broke the bond, but now we do. Remember what I said yesterday? You've gotta promise me, man, no matter how bad things ever get, no matter how scared you are, even if you think you're going to hurt me, you can't _ever_ pull away from me like that. I _won't_ lose you that way. I _won't_ go through hell like that again. You know, I can't _stand_ being cold, and I can't get warm without you. We're absolutely meant to be together, and there's nothing we can't overcome if we're open and honest with one another. But if you ever break our bond again, I'll kick your ass, I swear. Do you understand me?" 

"Yes," Jim said, chastened, and a little in awe of his Guide's ferocity. 

"Good," Blair said, curling back into Jim's arms, settling his head on his lover's chest. "Because kicking your ass would be _so_ bad for my reputation as a peace-loving man." 

Jim laughed, letting his fingers play through Blair's curls. 

"Did I mention already how much I really, really missed this?" Blair asked him. 

He could feel Jim's smile. "Maybe once or twice. I missed you too, so much. When I thought...well, there were a few moments when I didn't know if I was going to make it or not, and I really thought I was going to die without ever seeing you again." 

Blair shivered and burrowed into his lover, soaking in the living warmth, trying to push back the nightmarish visions of what might have happened. 

"Blair?" Jim said. 

"Uh huh?" 

"You know that it's probably not gone, right? This weird...sexual thing, I mean. Once I've recovered and my senses are anchored to you again, I'll probably...it's going to start all over again." 

Blair nodded. "Yeah, I know." 

"So what do we do?" 

Blair pulled himself up, so he could look into his Sentinel's face, blue eyes locking onto blue eyes. "We figure it out. We fight it, fix it, put an end to it. We get our life back, man." 

Jim gazed up at him, brushing the hair back from his face, his expression serious and thoughtful, and finally he nodded. "I want our life back." 

Blair smiled. "Me too, man. Me too." 

* * *

Several days passed, and Jim had grown stronger, thanks to the generous efforts of everyone in the household. Blair had soothed and restored his senses. Elizabeth had monitored his physical condition and treated his dehydration. Sam had sat with him and told him funny stories to lift his spirits. Elena had brought him flowers and news, gossiping with him like they'd known each other forever. Clare had been more reticent, never venturing further than the doorframe, but she'd come by every few hours, like clockwork, just to check on him, to make sure he was okay. 

After all that loving attention, he was feeling much better--sane, rested, well-fed, renewed. Best of all, he was reconnected with his Guide. Raw, uncomplicated joy pulsed through him at that thought. It wasn't that the dark urge had been vanquished. He still vaguely sensed it, banished to some far corner of his psyche, down for the moment, but certainly not out. Still, Blair had said it would be okay, and he had to trust in that. He had no intention of going back to either of the hells he'd so recently escaped, either the lunatic senses or the soulannihilating separation from his Guide. 

He sat on the terrace, at the patio table, drinking coffee, the first cup Elizabeth had allowed, worried what caffeine might do to his still vulnerable senses. It seemed impossible that any good could come from this whole agonizing situation, but strangely enough it had. Now that his senses had settled down, they felt new somehow, as if he were experiencing them for the first time, only with control. The effect was pure pleasure. Everything he saw or touched or tasted, heard or smelled, even the simplest things, they were all bold and bright now, larger than life, without being overwhelming, giving him the most intense sensual pleasure, putting him in a nearly euphoric state of mind. 

The world was filled with wonders. That's what he kept thinking. Like the coffee he was drinking. It was just so damned good, as though he'd never truly tasted coffee before, had never paid close enough attention to it. He couldn't understand how he'd never before noticed that it had layers and nuances to its flavor. It tasted dark and rich, like the earth itself, but also smooth and glossy, with a hint of biting pepperiness that registered in the back of his throat. It was a marvel; it was absolutely delicious. 

//I guess I just spent so much time thinking of these senses as some kind of punishment or freak show that I never actually learned to enjoy them. Except with Blair. And even that went wrong somehow. I just hope to God I can do it differently this go around and actually learn from past mistakes. That would be a nice change, huh, Ellison?// 

Laughter rose up from the back lawn, and he smiled. That sound would be delightful under any circumstances, with or without Sentinel hearing. It reminded him of wind chimes, airy and delicate and joyous. Blair was playing Frisbee with Clare and Elena, and it was so good to see him happy again. Since they'd reconnected, it was like Blair had been reborn, freed, reenergized. The terrible sense of chill had passed, and the layers had come off. He was now dressed in a T-shirt and the old worn jeans Jim always loved to see on him, appreciating the way they molded to his form, showing off his body. Blair had even thrown off his shoes, and Jim found the vision of his love's naked feet running on the green grass one of the most erotic sights he'd ever witnessed. 

That had definitely been the most pleasurable part of recovering his senses--rediscovering Blair, like it was the first time. His Sentinel sight marveled over him like he was a new toy, greedily taking in the sight of his lover's muscles beneath his clothes, the way his calves and thighs flexed and stretched as he ran for the Frisbee, the rippling play of biceps as he threw it. He'd always loved Blair's hair, but now he couldn't take his eyes off how it shimmered in the sunlight. He could see the individual strands, so many beautiful colors--mahogany and sable, deep auburn and burnished gold. The curls bounced around his face with every movement, like they were living things, blowing happily in the light breeze. 

Blair at play was a joy to watch. He threw all the passion of his nature into the game, suddenly diving for a long shot, his lithe body stretching out gracefully, going after the Frisbee for all he was worth, skidding on his belly as he made a grab for it. Clare and Elena burst into laughter, their voices high and clear, and Blair joined in with them, still lying there on the ground, his chest rising and falling with exertion and mirth. The teenagers ran over to him and each offered a hand, helping him up. All their faces were alight with simple, innocent happiness. It really was like watching three children at play--two lovely young girls and one heart-breakingly beautiful boy. 

Jim could tell by the set of Blair's body that he was conscious of his attention, that he could feel the Sentinel senses at work on him. Perhaps it was the Guide instinct, or maybe Jim just wasn't being very subtle. But every now and then, Blair would smile up at him, and he could feel himself falling into that bottomless blue gaze. Just like the ocean, Blair's eyes had their depths; you only had to look closely enough to understand that. 

Jim had never quite gotten over the incongruity of those ancient eyes, filled with wisdom so far beyond Blair's years, set in such a youthful, boyish face. There was always something just a little unfathomable in Blair's expression, despite his wonderful openness, something that came from deep inside him. Sometimes, Jim thought it was simply the power of that intricate, elegant mind shining through. Sometimes, he suspected it was more mysterious and complicated than that, the experience of many lifetimes already past, the accumulated wisdom of the ages. 

//I should never think of him as a boy. He's not. He's a man, a beautiful man.// Jim revised himself. // _My_ beautiful man.// 

Blair ran up the lawn and bounced up the steps, over to the table where he was sitting. 

"Hey man, why don't you come and play?" 

Jim shook his head and reached for him. Blair was the only recreation he craved these days. His lover smiled, understanding perfectly, bending down to kiss him. It had taken some doing for Blair to convince him this was safe, that they were ready, but now that he'd tasted his Guide again, he longed for more. In fact, he'd developed a whole new appreciation for how subtle and complex his Guide's taste was, no two kisses ever quite alike, each one staggering in its own way. The one before breakfast had been sweet and rich, like a sinfully luscious dessert. The one as they'd sat together on the sun porch had been hot and peppery, Blair's lips and tongue a piquant pleasure. 

But this one...well, it was the best so far, like a long drink of water when he'd been so thirsty, so clean and clear and restorative. He didn't want it to end and wound an arm around his Guide's waist. Blair braced his arms on the chair to keep from losing his balance, leaning further into the kiss, giving as good as he got. Jim sighed his satisfaction into his lover's mouth and could feel Blair react to that, opening his mouth wider, becoming more demanding. 

//How did I live without this for so long? No, not live, survive. I survived. But just barely.// 

Blair finally pulled back, out of breath. "We have an audience," he whispered. 

They both looked over to see two sets of eyes watching them curiously. 

"Man, you guys sure can hold your breath a long time," Elena observed, not without admiration. 

Blair blushed, but Jim beamed happily. The giddy quality of his senses had put him in the best mood he could remember, and he felt like broadcasting his satisfaction to everyone. 

"Hey big guy, I want to go out and do some shopping. Feel like coming?" 

"No, that's okay. You go ahead. I'm still a little tired. I think I'll just stay put and soak in some more sun. It won't be long before we're back in Cascade, and I won't even remember what it looks like." 

"I hear that, man. Okay, I'll be back in a couple of hours. You want anything?" 

"Surprise me," he said, smiling broadly. 

Blair got a positively mischievous look in his eye. "Don't forget you asked for it." He kissed Jim on the forehead. "See you in a little while." 

"Blair...ummm, do you think? I mean, would it be okay if..." Elena stammered. 

"You're welcome to come along." 

She bounced with excitement, and Jim had to grin. //It's got to be a Guide thing.// 

"Clare?" Blair offered. 

The other girl shook her head, still lingering by the stairs, as if she wasn't quite sure about coming any closer. 

"Do _you_ want anything?" Elena asked her. 

She shook her head again. 

Elena smiled. "Maybe I'll surprise you too. How about that?" 

"Okay," Clare said, almost shyly. "Thanks." 

Elena looked pleased and a little surprised that Clare hadn't rejected her offer. "Okay, we'll see you guys later then." 

"Bye," Jim said, in a husky tone. 

"See you later, big guy." 

Clare crept a little closer, and Jim pulled out a chair for her. "Why don't you sit down? You must be tired from the game." 

"Okay," she said, still a little hesitant, but taking a seat anyway. 

"Elizabeth tells me you're from Sacramento. So how do you like it here in San Francisco?" he asked her. 

"It's all right. The city is nice. I get a little tired of the fog though." 

"You haven't seen cloud cover until you've been to Cascade, where Blair and I live. The sky is steel grey about nine months out of the year. Blair just hates it." 

"Umm...so do you and Blair, like, live together?" 

He nodded. "Yes, we do." 

"How long?" 

"Five years now." 

"And you love him?" 

"Yes, I do, Clare. Does that bother you?" 

It had never occurred to him to try to conceal his love for Blair from Clare and Elena, not that it would have been especially possible anyway. But, of course, there were plenty of people who would object to such open displays in front of the kids. He always thought of their love as so beautiful that he sometimes forgot there were people who saw it as something dirty and dangerous. Clare's parents might very well be such people. He had no idea what they'd taught her or what her reaction to his relationship with Blair might be. 

//I hope for her sake that she's open minded. It sure will make things easier for her down the road.// 

"I don't have a problem that you're two guys together. I have a lot of gay friends," she said and Jim felt relieved for her. "But I was just wondering if that's why he's your Guide, why you let him boss you around, because you're in love with him. I mean, if it wasn't a love thing, you wouldn't need to have him around, right? You wouldn't have to have a Guide." 

"I'd still need him. He was my Guide before he was my lover, and he'd still be my Guide even if I'd never fallen in love with him at all, although I can't quite imagine that." 

"But why bother?" Clare asked. "I mean, look what it got you. You almost died because of it." 

Jim shook his head. "No, that wasn't Blair's fault, not in any way. His being my Guide wasn't what hurt me. It was my pulling away from him. I have some...I don't always communicate that well, especially when I get scared about something." 

Clare's eyes grew wide. "You get scared?" 

"Everyone does." 

"I don't," she declared defiantly. "If you don't have anything you can't stand to lose, you never have anything to fear." 

It sounded like a motto, like something she'd spent her young lifetime formulating, something she'd put a lot of faith in. Jim shook his head to himself. God, it sounded tragically familiar, and he felt a terrible, weighty sadness both for Clare and for the stubborn part of his own subconscious that still clung to such painfully wrong-headed logic. 

"What good is a Guide anyway?" she demanded. "They're _my_ senses. No one knows them better than I do. What's a Guide going to do for me?" 

"You'd be surprised. Blair's taught me so many things. I never could have used my senses as effectively as I do without him." 

Clare looked distinctly unimpressed. 

"I'll show you," he said. "How about a contest?" 

"What you do mean?" she asked, a little suspiciously. 

"A little battle of Sentinel skill. What? Not up for it?" 

"Bring it on," she said, throwing her shoulders back, meeting his challenge. 

Jim smiled to himself. //Oh yes, she really does remind me of myself, poor girl. But it does make it easier to push her buttons.// 

Jim stood up and moved to the end of the terrace, a spot with a good vantage. "Can you see the couple arguing by the clump of trees in the park over there?" 

Clare joined him and searched the far-off horizon with her Sentinel sight. "Oh, yeah, okay, I see them. So?" 

"What are they arguing about?" 

"How am I supposed to know? They're half turned away, and I'm not that good at reading lips anyway." 

"Don't watch. Listen." 

Clare stared at him like he was crazy. "You've got to be kidding? They're too far away, and there's way too much other noise. It's not possible. I mean, I'm a Sentinel, not some freakin' psychic." 

"It's not only possible, but if you know the right technique, it's actually fairly easy. Watch. I'm going to piggyback my hearing on my sight, so I can filter out all the background noise and tune into their conversation." 

Jim concentrated, piggybacking his senses the way Blair had taught him, zeroing in on the couple, letting his sight guide his hearing toward the target. 

"I can't believe you missed our anniversary to work late on some report," the woman complained. 

"I already explained to you how important it was. My _career_ is at stake here, Melissa," the man argued. 

"You know, not everything is about you and your damned career. Just once, I'd like to come first with you." 

"You do come first." 

"Bullshit." 

"Everything I do is for you." 

The woman snorted in disgust and rollerbladed off in a huff, leaving her husband to scramble after her. 

Jim reported the conversation to Clare, word for word. 

"You can actually do that?" she asked, her guard slipping, her face lighting up with wonder. 

"You can do it too." 

She started to shake her head. 

"Really," he said. "See those kids playing on the swings?" 

She nodded. 

"Okay, focus on them. Now, concentrate on joining your sight and your hearing, letting your hearing ride on top of your sight, so you can direct it where you want it to go." 

"I don't think I can..." 

"Yes, you can. Pay attention. Hearing on top of sight. Use it to direct your hearing to the kids on the swings." 

He watched her as she tried it, her expression intent, her forehead scrunched up with the effort of her concentration. He saw the moment she got it, her face lighting up with pleasure. 

"Oh my God! That's so amazing," she said. 

Jim smiled. "Blair figured it out, trained me how to do it. When I'm out in the field he guides me through it, so I don't zone. We've discovered a lot of evidence and solved a lot of crimes using that technique." 

She nodded, and for a moment, she actually looked seventeen years old, unguarded, curious, full of wonder. But it was only for a moment. She hastily snatched her senses back, tuning out the happy laughter of the children playing in the park. The mask she habitually wore quickly slid back into place, and he watched her close up again. 

"It's not like I need to do stuff like that anyway," she said. "I'm not a cop or anything, and I don't plan to be either." 

"Whatever you do with your senses, your Guide can help you use them better." 

"I don't _want_ a Guide. Why can't anybody get that through their thick heads around here?" she screamed, but Jim's Sentinel eyes could see her trembling. 

//Scared to death. Well, I ought to recognize it.// 

"I'm going in now," she said, hastily pushing back the chair. 

"Clare, I'm..." But the slamming of the terrace door cut him off. "Ah, damn!" 

"Whoa," Sam said, as he came out onto the terrace, carrying Carla. "What's up with Clare?" 

Jim sighed. "We were talking, and I pushed a little too hard I guess." 

"You were talking?" Sam asked, astonished, as he settled onto a chair. "As in whole sentences, strung together, coming out of Clare's mouth, that kind of talking?" 

"It hasn't really been that bad, has it?" 

"Actually, it has, I'm afraid. We've had a hard time reaching her. I think she relates better to you." 

"I have the feeling we're a lot alike in many ways." 

"I appreciate your trying to draw her out. Beth's a little worried about her. She's resisting her Guide." 

"She's scared." 

"I just wish we knew how to help." 

Jim nodded. He understood Clare's fear all too well. Five years of Blair in his life, two years as lovers, and he was still struggling with fear of his own, not sure why he kept making things harder than they needed to be. "It may be one of those things Sentinels just have to sort out for themselves," he finally said. 

"Maybe that's true. It's just really hard to sit by and watch someone going through a hard time like that without doing anything about it." 

Jim smiled. There really were universal Guide characteristics-- compassion, empathy, the eagerness to help people in trouble. He'd seen so many of Blair's wonderful qualities in both Sam and Elena. 

"Sam? Would it be okay if I held the baby?" Jim asked, surprising even himself. 

Sam grinned. "Sure, Jim," he said, handing him Carla, showing him how to hold her. "You know, I wouldn't have taken you for a man with much of an interest in kids." 

"I wouldn't have thought so either," Jim told him. 

But it was a wonderful feeling to hold Carla. She was so tiny and warm, and she wriggled in his arms, kicking her feet and balling her hands into his shirt, making so many different baby sounds that he couldn't even begin to catalog them all. He wondered if each one had its own specific meaning. //She's so new.// That's what he kept thinking. She was so new she dazzled his senses; she smelled and felt and sounded so fresh and unspoiled, so perfect. He'd never expected holding a baby to be so such a moving experience, but it was. 

Jim suddenly flashed on the boy from his visions. //I don't know what it is with me. I've just got kids on the brain these days.// 

"What's it like, Sam?" Jim asked. 

"Being a parent? Indescribable. Amazing. Terrifying. And as hard as it is for me, it's just that much harder for Beth." 

"The Sentinel thing?" 

"In combination with the mother thing. I mean, you know how anxious new moms can be. Well, imagine that the new mother is a Sentinel who can hear every minute fluctuation in the child's breathing and a doctor who can spin out medically correct imaginary ailments for each little wheeze and gurgle." 

Jim shook his head. Sometimes he had to wonder why Guides ever hung in there. No matter how well-adjusted a Sentinel was, weirdness was just bound to follow in the wake of the whole heightened senses thing. 

"Is she driving you crazy?" 

"She probably would be if she weren't making herself so nuts. I doubt she gets an hour's sleep a night. She stays up all night listening to Carla. Finally, I just end up feeling bad for her and kind of worried that she's going to wear herself out." 

"Just like Blair." 

"What?" 

"He always ends up feeling bad for me, no matter what I've done or how it's affected him." 

"Maybe that's part of being a Guide, being able to give that latitude, to really understand the ramifications of enhanced senses and how that can lead to extremes. I mean, the whole Sentinel thing is just this huge wild card. It causes problems and has consequences no one could ever foresee or prevent. Sentinels have to deal with it because they don't have a choice. They can't get away from their senses. But we Guides signed up for this. We always knew there would be problems, and we accepted that at the outset." 

"Somehow that doesn't keep me from feeling shitty about what happened. I mean, Blair suffered, and I caused it." 

"So why not try to separate it out? Figure out what part your choices actually played in the situation versus what was uncontrollable Sentinel stuff. Then work on what you _can_ change and forgive yourself for the rest. That's really all anyone can ever do. It's pointless to feel guilty about circumstances you never would have chosen, that were always out of your hands." 

Jim nodded absently. Maybe Sam was right. No, he knew he was right, and maybe, just maybe, he could take that good advice. He already knew how he was to blame. It was the same old pattern: encounter Sentinel weirdness, get scared, freak out, grow silent, shut Blair out. 

Sam watched him closely, as if he could see the thoughts playing across his face. He leaned in a little closer. "The _why_ of it is the important part. _Why_ did you make the choices you did? Understanding that is the only way you'll ever be able to heal it." 

Jim frowned, concentrating, trying to follow back the thread of his fear to its source, attempting to see where this impulse came from that made him pull away from his Guide when things got hard, when he started to struggle. But it was like trying to look through concrete or enter the heart of a void, something that thwarted even Sentinel sight. There was something standing in his way, and he couldn't get to the answer. 

Sam patted him on the shoulder. "These things don't always come to mind immediately. Give it some time and thought. I'm sure you'll figure it out." 

"Thanks, Sam." 

"Hey, no problem." 

Carla started moving restlessly in Jim's arms. She curled up her hands into tiny fists and began rubbing her eyes, making cranky noises. "Somebody needs a nap," Sam said. "Let me take her. I'll go put her down." 

Jim handed her back to Sam, and he held his daughter against his shoulder, rubbing her back soothingly. "Yes, you're a tired little girl. You need to go to sleep now, don't you?" he crooned to her as he got to his feet and headed for the door. 

"Hey Sam?" Jim said. 

"Yeah?" 

"Thanks again." 

Sam smiled. "Any time, Jim." 

Continued in part three.


	3. Chapter 3

Due to the length of this story, it has been split into five parts.

## Progeny

by Annabelle Leigh

Continued from part two.

* * *

Progeny - part three  


Blair and Elena hit the stores in earnest, browsing, looking at pretty much everything, since neither one of them really knew what they wanted to get for their Sentinels. 

"I'm glad Jim's feeling better," Elena said, picking up a carved, decorative box and putting it down again, determined to find the perfect surprise for Clare. 

"Yeah, me too. This one was _way_ too close." 

"There've been other times like this?" she asked, her eyes wide with surprise. 

"Let's just say that between the Sentinel thing and the law enforcement stuff, Jim and I lead very interesting lives." 

"I thought it was pretty cool you were the one who saved the day. I like it when the Guide gets to do something important. I mean, the way it was described to me it sounds like Clare's going to have all the fun, while I just kind of offer advice and encouragement," she said, rolling her eyes. "That's like _way_ boring, you know what I mean?" 

"Trust me, Elena. A Guide's life is anything but dull." 

She smiled happily. "Good." 

Blair shook his head. //Ah, youth!// 

"So how'd you guys meet? How'd you get into the Guide thing?" she asked. 

"I was studying Sentinels, actually." 

"You mean, you'd heard of them before? I got here to San Francisco, and the whole thing was news to me." 

"I'd read about Sentinels when I was a kid and have been fascinated by them ever since. There's this explorer, Richard Burton, not the actor, who wrote extensively about them." 

"There's a Richard Burton who's an actor? What's he been in?" 

"Never mind," he said, suddenly feeling very old. "Anyway, so I read all Burton's stuff and when I got to grad school, I really wanted to study the whole Sentinel phenomenon, only I needed a subject. I was seeing this nurse at the hospital, and when Jim came in with his senses all going berserk, she called me." 

"That's such a romantic story! It's like destiny or something. But what I want to know is how you got Jim to accept you?" 

"Very slowly. When I first saw him in the hospital, I had to find a way to talk to him, so I stole a doctor's coat and snuck into his room. I gave him my card and told him this was someone who would understand what was happening to him. Of course, Jim being Jim, he noticed that I'd mispronounced the name on the name badge. Still, he did come to see me." 

"I'll bet he was kind of pissed when he saw you were the same person from the hospital." 

"Most definitely. Jim's kind of a suspicious guy. You may have noticed that. It's a police detective, Special Ops, tribal protector thing. That day in my office, he slammed me up against the wall and called me a neohippie witch doctor punk or something like that. I don't think you could say we exactly got off on the right foot." 

Elena watched him intently. "So how did you get him to start trusting you?" 

"Well, there was this garbage truck, and I kind of saved his life. After that, he pretty much accepted me. Not that we never had problems, not that he didn't resist sometimes, or a lot of the time actually. He did. Jim wasn't always that crazy about my way of doing things, especially all the tests. Actually, that still drives him crazy. It makes him feel like a lab rat instead of a person." 

"But still, after that day with the garbage truck, he accepted you as his Guide?" 

Blair nodded. "Pretty much." 

Elena crumpled a little, starting to look dejected. She took out a scarf, examined it and tossed it back on the shelf. "Where's a garbage truck when I need one?" she muttered. 

"Hey," he said, putting a hand on her shoulder. "She'll come around. Don't worry. She's just not used to having anyone. Jim was like that too, but he's learned to let me in. Well mostly. We're still working on it, but we're making progress." 

"I hope that happens with me and Clare, but I really don't think she likes me too much." 

"When a person's been let down a lot, sometimes they develop certain defense mechanisms to protect themselves. They learn to push people away before they can get too close, so they don't get hurt. They reject other people before they get rejected. Clare just needs time to see that you're not going anywhere, that she does need a Guide, and that you're not going to reject her." 

"Man, it's like _so_ complicated. My head is spinning." 

"Sorry," Blair said, grinning ruefully. "That's another thing Jim has a problem with, when I go into lecture mode, which, okay, is fairly often. What I'm really trying to say is be patient and let her work things out for herself. She'll accept you eventually." 

"I guess I can do that." 

"Good girl." 

Blair moved to the next aisle, sorting through various porcelain figurines and other bric-a-brac. //That is just so _not_ Jim. He already complains about too much clutter around the loft.// 

Elena trailed behind him, not really looking at the merchandise. "Can I ask you...well, it's kind of a personal question?" 

"Ask away." 

"When did you know that it wasn't just about being his Guide? When did you know it was more?" 

"When did I fall in love with him?" 

She smiled shyly. "Yeah." 

"I think it was when he didn't throw me out of the loft when Larry wrecked it." 

"Who's Larry?" 

"When I first met Jim, I was doing an experiment with a Barbary ape named Larry, studying the effects of television violence on primates. After my place got blown up, Jim took us both in, and well, you know, Larry _was_ an animal, not exactly tidy, and all that shit on TV did kind of do a number on him. He _trashed_ Jim's apartment. I thought that would be the end of it. Jim is _very_ careful with his stuff, most especially his home. He _was_ pissed off and complained and muttered about throwing me out. But he didn't, and to be honest, I don't think he was ever really serious about it. I mean, because then Larry did it _again_ , and Jim just helped me clean it up. Anybody else would definitely have tossed me out on my ass after that, so fast I got whiplash. I really think that was the beginning of it for me. I never felt that way before with anybody, like I could screw up and still be welcome and it wouldn't even be a question. I think I started loving him for that." 

Elena smiled. "That's so sweet." 

"Yeah, well..." Blair said, blushing slightly. 

"What about Jim? When did he fall in love with you?" 

Blair laid down the belt he was checking out and thought for a moment. "You know, I really don't know. I never asked him. We got together...well, it was after I got hurt working a case. Long story, pretty ugly. I don't really want to go into it. Anyway, I'm pretty sure that was only a catalyst. I'll have to ask him sometime when he first knew." 

"You should," Elena advised him. "That's the kind of thing that's important to know." 

Her earnestness made him smile. "I'll make sure I do then." 

"Good." 

"Do you think Clare would like this?" she asked him, picking up a small embroidered silk bag. 

"Yeah. That's nice." 

"I don't know. I just want to get her something she'll really like." 

"She _will_ come around, Elena. I promise. You just need to be patient." 

"Yeah, yeah, I know. But here's a question. Why is it the Guide that always has to be understanding?" 

"Somehow it just seems to work out that way. The Sentinels have their hands full dealing with their runaway senses, and we have _our_ hands full dealing with our recalcitrant Sentinels." 

Elena giggled. "That's funny." 

"Thanks," he said, smiling back at her. 

"I like that. I'm going to have to remember it. Do you think..." 

He waited a moment for her to finish the question, but she didn't, suddenly busying herself refolding a sweater she'd taken out to look at. 

"What?" he prompted. 

"Did you always know you were gay?" she finally asked, and Blair could tell it was much more than idle curiosity. 

//Ah, the bonding instinct's already at work. No wonder she's so upset Clare won't accept her.// 

"I pretty much always knew that gender wasn't much of an issue for me. I mean, it was the _person_ I found attractive. I was never too hung up on whether it was a man or a woman." 

"But what about Jim? He doesn't seem quite as...I don't know, flexible as that, you know?" 

"Yeah, I do, and yeah, Jim comes from a pretty rigid family, not exactly the sort of environment that embraces homosexuality. But whatever misapprehensions he had about being with another man, he's managed to work through it. One of the things I've always appreciated about Jim is that he may be on the traditional side, but he's not narrow, by any means." 

Elena watched him intently, soaking up the information like a sponge. 

"Was there something else you wanted to ask?" he asked her. 

"I kind of...I just can't help it. I feel...oh, it's no use. She can't even stand to be in the same room with me most days. There's no way she's ever gonna want to go _there_. I've tried to get over it. I really have. I just..." 

"Is this the first time? Or have you had feelings like this for other girls?" 

She couldn't meet his eye. 

"It's all right," he said reassuringly. 

"Yeah, I have. Not that I've done anything about it," she added hastily. 

"There's nothing wrong with how you feel, Elena, and there's nothing wrong with acting on it." 

"Tell that to the kids I go to school with. There were these two girls, juniors, who started hanging out together all the time, you know, just the two of them. There was something...they were pretty physical with each other, a touch here, a little pat there, kind of leaning into one another when they walked down the hall, you know. One day, somebody caught them kissing, on the lips and all, in the parking lot. They ended up having to transfer to some other school 'cause they got harassed so bad." 

"People can be very narrow minded, Elena. I can't say it's not so. But it doesn't make your feelings wrong in any way. It can be really hard in high school. I mean, I know from personal experience. I had a huge crush on this guy, a baseball player actually, at this school I was at in Texas. We're talking _Texas_ here, in the 80s, no less. Anyway, I thought I was being pretty cool about it, but apparently not. It got all over school, and this guy, who I'd thought was so great, was suddenly in my face, threatening to beat the shit out of me if I ever laid a hand on him. Talk about being _really_ disillusioned. Fortunately, my mom and I moved around a lot, and I didn't have to stay there too long after that. Anyway, my point is that high school doesn't last forever. Thank God. You get to choose your own life after that. You can find a place where you feel comfortable being exactly who you are, whatever that is." 

"Do you think this makes me a lesbian, Blair?" 

"I really don't know. I mean, feelings are always complicated and hard to figure out. Sometimes, teenage girls have very strong feelings for one another. Not that I'm trying to discount what you're feeling. I'm definitely not. I'm just saying it's probably a little early to draw conclusions. I guess I'm not sure those labels matter. I mean, it's kind of silly actually, trying to reduce something as complex as love to something so black and white, so simplistic. People look at Jim and me and see a gay couple, but that's hardly the whole of who we are. It doesn't even begin to describe all the things that we are to one another. We're not exactly your stereotypical gay men either. Honestly, I'm not sure what Jim would do with the soundtrack from a musical, certainly not listen to it. Finally, you just love who you love. If it weren't for prejudice, we wouldn't even bother with labels like 'gay' or 'straight', you know?" 

"Is it hard?" she asked, looking worried. 

"Honestly, yeah, sometimes it is. Some people are seriously unkind. But I've always found it to be more than worth it. I'd rather have a bumpy path in life with Jim, than clear sailing without him." 

"Not that it really matters anyway," Elena said sadly. "She doesn't even like me as a friend." 

"She likes you," Blair assured her. "She's just not quite ready to admit it yet." 

The girl sighed. "At this rate, she might think I'm sort of okay by the time we're in the old age home together." 

Blair grinned at her and put a hand on her shoulder. "Maybe it won't take quite that long." 

"Oh my God! That's it!" she squealed. 

"What? The bracelet?" 

"Yes! Isn't it perfect?" 

"It's beautiful," Blair agreed. 

"Can I see that one?" Elena pointed it out to the salesman behind the counter. 

The man removed the bracelet from the display case and laid it on the counter. It was an exceedingly simple design, silver, perhaps a half inch wide, in the shape of a 'v', with a single, luminous white stone set at the apex of the 'V'. 

"It's a moonstone," Elena said. 

"I've never seen one before. It's really beautiful." 

Elena slipped the bracelet onto her wrist. "It's elegant, unfussy, lovely. It reminds me of Clare," she said, with a sigh. "And her birthday's in June. Moonstone is her traditional birthstone." 

"You should get it for her then. I'm sure she'll love it," Blair prompted. 

"How much is it?" she asked the salesman. 

The man told her, and Elena smiled at him. "I recognize this design and craftsmanship," she said. "Native American, from New Mexico. In fact, I'm pretty sure I know which pueblo it comes from." 

"You're familiar with Native American art?" the salesman asked, apparently surprised to find such expertise in someone so young. 

"My father is Honduran, but my mother is Zuni, from the western part of New Mexico. I've spent a lot of time there." 

"Then this should make the perfect gift for your friend," the salesman said, smiling at her encouragingly. 

"Yes, and I plan to get it for her. But first, I need you to offer me a reasonable price." 

The man turned red and let out a distressed, choking noise. "I'll have you know that all our prices are..." 

" _Way_ overinflated. I know how much the designers sell their jewelry for. Even if they pumped up the price for you, you're still marking it up three to four hundred percent." 

"I wouldn't expect you to understand all the ins and outs of retail merchandising," the man said huffily. "But there are overhead costs to cover, as well as other expenses, and of course, we need to show a profit. Sir, I'm sure _you_ understand." 

Blair shook his head. "Sounds like my friend here has a point. I'm sure you don't want to get a reputation for ripping off your customers." 

The man looked torn. "Yes, I, um, see your point, sir." 

"Here, I'll give you this for it," Elena said, taking out several bills from her wallet, significantly less than the quoted price. 

"Surely, you don't..." 

"I'd hate to have to tell all the nice people in here how much you're overcharging them. Plus, we both know you're still making a really healthy profit. So, how about it? Is it a deal?" 

"I'll need to check with the manager." 

Elena smiled sweetly. "I'll be happy to wait." 

He turned away with a disgusted look and stepped into the back room of the store to confer with his supervisor. 

Blair whistled appreciatively. "Elena, you are some negotiator. I never would have suspected." 

"Growing up, I spent a lot of time in Honduras. My dad wanted me to have a sense of my heritage, and bargaining is a way of life down there. Believe me, I learned from the master, my grandmother. The big joke in my family is that when my grandma finishes with the merchants at the market they're ready to pay her to take the stuff off their hands. Never pay retail. That's a family motto." 

"It's cool you know so much about Native American crafts." 

"Yeah, I also spent a lot of time in New Mexico. My mom wanted to make sure I knew I had two sets of grandparents. Mom's a potter, so I know a lot of artists. They taught me what to look for." 

"Did you like learning about those different cultures?" 

"Yeah, lots. I always find it so interesting to go to new places and see other ways of living. Both my parents like to travel, so I've been all over. I've been to all fifty states, all over Central America, through Europe, and last summer we spent travelling around southeast Asia. We went to Indonesia, Thailand, Hong Kong and Singapore. It was the coolest. I had a great time." 

"Have you taken any classes in anthropology?" he asked. 

She smiled. "I have. I liked it. I want to take more in college." 

"It's a great field," he said. 

"Don't you _have_ to say that?" she asked, kidding him. 

"Absolutely. It's in my contract. Always speak highly of the discipline. But seriously, you should really check it out." 

She nodded. "I definitely plan to. I mean, I probably won't really know what I want to major in until I get to college and try things out. But right now, my top two choices are Anthro and Art History. Or maybe Central American history or the history of Native people in the U.S. I want to study something that relates to my heritage. That's important to me." 

"Sounds exciting. I look forward to seeing what you decide." 

The salesman came back out of the office. "All right, young lady, the bracelet is yours." 

Elena clapped her hands happily. "Thank you!" 

"Would you like it wrapped?" he asked her. 

"Yes, please." 

The salesman folded it in tissue paper and placed it in a box, putting a decorative sticker on top. He took the cash off the counter and rang up the purchase. He placed the box with the bracelet in it inside a small paper bag and handed it to her, along with the receipt. 

"I hope your friend enjoys it," he said, magnanimously. 

She smiled at him. "Me too. Thanks." 

They left the store and started walking up the busy street again. "What do you want to get for Jim?" she asked. 

"I don't know. So far, nothing's really said 'Jim' to me." 

"Well, that shirt you bought looks really good on you. That's sort of like a gift for him." 

He grinned. "I think that may be stretching it a little." 

"Not if you get something for yourself that really turns Jim on." 

"Geez, Elena, you're making me blush here." 

She elbowed him playfully. "Ah, come on. You know I'm right." 

"Well, maybe..." he said, and then a store caught his eye. 

//Yes, Elena, you're definitely right. I know exactly what I can get for me that's really a present for Jim.// 

"Over here," he said to her, putting a hand on her shoulder to guide her. 

They hurried across the street and went into a popular bath and body shop that Blair frequented back in Cascade. 

"You're going to get him soap?" Elena asked, skeptically. "I think that may give him the wrong message. It says less that you love him than that you think he needs better hygiene." 

Blair shook his head. "No, I'm taking your advice. This is for me, not him," he explained, making a beeline for what he had in mind. 

"All natural, scent-free body products," Elena read from the display. 

"I've been experimenting with different kinds of soap and shampoo, looking for one that really is scent-free to a Sentinel. I got some samples of this a little while back, and Jim really liked it. I just never got a chance to go back and get more." 

"I understand why a heavy scent would be bad for a Sentinel, but why no scent at all?" she asked. 

"Um, well...Jim kind of prefers...he likes to be able to smell _me_ , you know what I mean?" 

Elena's eyes got big and were filled with curiosity. "Yeah, I think so. Wow. That's really...natural." 

Blair paused for a moment. Elena was only seventeen, somebody's little girl, and maybe he shouldn't be sharing these kinds of details with her. Maybe he should be more discreet. //No. Naomi was always open and honest about sex, and it didn't hurt me. In fact, it helped me feel more comfortable with my own sexuality, and that's been important in dealing with the Sentinel thing. It's going to be important for Elena too. I'm not going to lie to her or cut corners off the truth. If she asks me a question, I'm going to answer it honestly.// 

Elena grinned at him, mischief dancing in her eyes. "So is tonight the special night when Jim gets his gift?" 

He returned her smile. "It is, if I have anything to say about it." 

"Well, Blair, I think you found the perfect thing for him. I just _know_ he's really going to like it." 

"I hope you're right." 

Blair also picked up a bottle of massage oil, a subtle blend of chamomile and lemon balm, a delicate scent Jim enjoyed, and paid for all of it at the register. The woman behind the counter handed him the bag, and he and Elena headed out the door. 

//I really do hope you enjoy your present, big guy, because I'm definitely in the mood for a gift that gives back.// 

* * *

Jim spent the rest of the afternoon sitting in the sun on the terrace, just thinking. The yellow warmth of the sunshine relaxed him so that he could mull over what Sam had said rather than obsessing about it. The ordinary ebb and flow of life inside the house helped too, providing soothing background noise for his musings. 

It was funny that he found that busy buzz comforting rather than distracting. He'd never lived with so many people before, except for his six weeks of basic training, and he'd been so unnerved back then, terrified really, that the whole thing passed in a blur. He did remember that it had never been still in the barracks--a low, dull roar constantly throughout the day and a residual sense of tension in the air at night, even as they slept, so thick and strong it was like a sound in its own right. 

He'd been searching for connection with other people all his life, some sense of belonging. That's really what had prompted him to join the military. As a child, he'd felt so isolated and alone, just the three of them rattling around in that large house after his mother left, divided from one another, more like strangers than family. 

Unfortunately, the army hadn't turned out exactly as he'd hoped. The aloneness hadn't receded; beneath the surface, he'd quickly discovered the many divisions that came between his fellow recruits, just the way they had in his family. Oh, he'd made friends, but none of it had lasted. Maybe he would still have been in touch with some of the guys killed in Peru, but the others, they'd just faded away somehow. The differences they'd once been able to overlook only became exaggerated as they got older and moved on in life, their paths diverging in wildly different directions. 

When Blair came along, it was his first taste of belonging, at last someone who accepted him wholly, just as he was, family in the truest sense of the word. And here at Elizabeth and Sam's house, amongst all the other Sentinels and Guides, he'd found what it meant to be part of a community. They really were his tribe, not the one he protected, but the one that protected him, helped him, understood him, embraced him for exactly who and what he was. 

In his father's house, he'd had to contort himself in so many different ways just to try and please the old man, and still he'd never managed it. In the army, he'd lived in fear of getting caught some night, out behind the barracks or in the latrine, those clumsy, super-heated fumblings in the dark that he'd worked so hard to convince himself were nothing, just an aberration brought on by the lack of female company. Somehow, he'd managed to block out of his mind the lingering sense of disappointment he'd always felt about his entanglements with women. It hadn't been much different in the PD, pretending to himself, his co- workers, worst of all to Carolyn, that he was something he wasn't, until the Sentinel thing made that impossible, until Blair came along and he didn't have to pretend ever again. 

It was astonishing and a little sad that it was only in the last five years, out of forty, that he'd begun to let his authentic self out. It was only now that it felt at all safe to do so. It was only because he'd finally found his tribe that it was even possible. What an amazing thing to happen halfway into a life. 

Jim became so engrossed in his thoughts that he didn't even hear when Blair and Elena returned. It wasn't a zone exactly, more like an extremely focused state of awareness, deep inside himself, trying to work out those answers Sam had suggested he needed to find. It was only when Elena came out to the patio to call him in to dinner that he was jolted out of his ruminations. He got up from the table, stiff from sitting so long, and laughed at himself a little. //And I think Blair gets lost in his thoughts.// He went inside and washed up for dinner. 

With all of them sitting around the large dining room table, it was like being at the Walton's for dinner--well, a loud, fractious, Sentinel and Guide version of it. Elizabeth and Sam sat with Carla between them in her high chair, adding her happy, gurgling baby noises to the exuberant pitch of conversation. Clare and Elena sat next to one another. Clare was wearing her new bracelet, trying not to look too pleased with it. Still, Jim could tell she liked it from the way she kept looking down at her wrist and fiddling with the bracelet, admiring it. Elena was trying not to appear too proud of herself, probably worried that she'd spoil the moment, trying not to set off one of Clare's mood swings. But she was thrilled that Clare obviously liked her gift, and she didn't have much luck hiding her pleasure. A wide, bright smile kept breaking through, despite her best efforts. 

He and Blair were seated together, and he had a hard time tearing his eyes away from him long enough to pay attention to the dinner conversation. He stopped trying to fight it, and just let the buzzing voices wash over him as he lost himself in wave after wave of his Guide. Blair was wearing the shirt he'd bought while out shopping. Jim had never seen him look more beautiful. The new shirt was silk, midnight blue, so much the color of his eyes. The soft fabric flowed sensually over his body, rippling like water with every movement, accentuating the smooth play of muscles beneath it. Blair had left just the top button undone, and depending on how he moved, Jim could get a glimpse of his skin. It was like watching the promised land winking at him, teasing, that inviting triangle of flesh right at the hollow of Blair's throat, where even from a foot away he could see the pulse beating. 

Elizabeth loved candles, and the candelabra in the center of the table was ablaze, bathing everything in a soft, warm glow. Jim couldn't take his eyes off the way the light shimmered in Blair's hair like some kind of angel vision. Blair was freshly showered, but there was no whiff of chemicals from shampoo or soap. Jim smiled to himself. Now, he knew what else Blair had purchased while he was out, the scent-free bath products that left his lover's natural odor uncovered, just the way he liked it. His smile broadened. Oh yes, it was a seduction. _That_ was his surprise. 

Jim realized he should probably be concerned about renewing their sexual relationship. He knew they should probably proceed with caution, that he should put on the brakes, look away, anything to break the mood, the sexual tension building between them. But he couldn't. He was too mesmerized by the sight of a sensual Blair putting all his many charms on display. It had been too long, and he'd missed his Guide too much. Plus, for the first time in his life, his senses felt like a wonderland, and he wanted more than anything to savor the experience by making love with his Guide. 

"Jim showed me the coolest thing today," Clare said. 

Jim heard his name and forced himself to pay attention. 

"What'd you call it again?" she asked him. 

"Piggybacking one sense onto another. In this case, hearing on top of sight," he said. 

"You taught Clare how to do it?" Blair asked him. 

He nodded. 

"I could focus on specific people's conversations all the way over in the park," she said. "Do you know how far away that is?" 

"Far," Elizabeth said. "That's a really interesting technique. I'd love to hear more about it." 

Blair launched into an explanation of how it worked and how they'd kind of stumbled onto it while they were investigating the death of another officer, unfortunately killed by some of their own, dirty cops who'd turned to trafficking the drugs they were entrusted to keep off the streets. At Clare and Elena's urging, he lingered on the part where they were involved in the helicopter chase, painting in all the details, pacing his narrative for maximum suspense, keeping them all glued to their seats, dying to hear how it all worked out. 

Jim's mind wandered. He already knew the story after all. Hell, he'd lived it. Everyone was caught up in Blair's artful storytelling anyway, and no one seemed to notice he wasn't paying attention. He focused on Blair. His lover swamped his senses. He lost himself in his Guide--his scent, the waves of warmth coming off his body, the swirls and eddies of air around his hands as he gestured, the beating of his heart, the sound of his words. It didn't really matter to him what Blair said. It was enough just to listen to the musical rise and fall of his voice, the low, rumbling bass notes of his laugh, the windy rush of breath in and out of his body. 

Then Blair put a hand on his arm and told him to eat, probably a little worried that he'd zoned. He smiled at his lover to reassure him and picked up the heavy silver fork. His taste buds exploded with pleasure. Food had never been so good before. Marta was an excellent cook, and she'd prepared them a traditional Mexican meal. 

The mole sauce on the chicken...well, it made his mouth happy. It was a marvel of subtlety and sophistication, a delicate blend of flavors that would have been inedible if the balance was even slightly off. Marta had achieved perfection. The deep chocolate bitterness was smoothed by the delicate play of spices, cinnamon definitely, and something else too, anise maybe. The meaty richness of almonds and sesame seeds tamed the sharp bite of chilies. Marta served the chicken with a healthy portion of avocado rice, something he'd never seen before, a delicious combination that went perfectly with the mole sauce. He ate happily, lingering over every bite, wondering how he'd missed out on such pleasures for so long. 

The luscious flavors reminded him of the many kisses he'd shared with Blair that day and that there was still so much more of his Guide that he had yet to taste again. The thought filled him with anticipation, like a promise, a reward, a great gift that was his for the taking, at least if the way Blair kept fondling his thigh beneath the table was any indication. 

//This is too good. Nothing can be this good, and no one could possibly deserve it.// 

The rest of the evening seemed to pass as if by magic, the time just dissolving somehow. Dinner came and went; coffee and dessert were served and cleared away again. Jim floated on the tide of it all, his Guide the only thing that really registered in his awareness, the anchor that kept him grounded. Now that Jim had him back, he needed to keep a hand on him at all times, making sure that strong, compact body stayed pressed close to his. 

Eventually, the evening was over. People began to stand up and drift away, to their own rooms, to the den to watch television, outside to the terrace for a breath of fresh air. His Guide had grown quiet, watching him with large, solemn eyes. Finally Blair stood up and held out his hand. Jim took it without hesitation, letting his lover lead him upstairs to their room. Any concerns or doubts he'd ever had fell away from him. He went with his Guide willingly, eagerly, his heart thudding in his chest. //Let the Guide guide.// That thought echoed inside him along with his runaway pulse. 

Once inside their room, Blair undressed them both, quickly, efficiently. By now, Jim was swimming in a sea of sensory input, and he let Blair take charge, content simply to float on a cloud of his love's essence. 

Finally, Blair stood before him naked, his shoulders thrown back, posing for him, letting feverish Sentinel eyes rake over his bare flesh. "We haven't completely reformed our connection yet," Blair told him. "You haven't finished tasting me." 

Jim growled, a deep, raw sound in the back of his throat. 

Blair smiled, his eyes filled with desire. "That's right, lover. It's time to reclaim your territory." 

"Are you sure?" Jim had to ask, had to make sure. 

"I want to make love with you." 

"But..." 

Blair grabbed his arm and pulled him close, pressing their naked bodies together, causing them both to gasp. "Nothing too major tonight, okay? Just us, together again, the way we should be." 

Jim stroked both his hands through Blair's hair. The curls felt so warm and alive, twining around his fingers. He kissed his lover's forehead. "Yes, please, I want that." 

Blair took his hand and led him to the bed. They lay down together, facing one another, still holding hands. Blair's eyes flickered over him in appraisal. Jim could not control his breathing as he felt his lover's gaze moving sensually down his body. Just the thought of making love with Blair once more had been enough to make him hard, and now his Guide's lovingly appreciative glance made him even harder. 

Blair looked deeply into his eyes, questioningly, and he nodded. Yes, he was ready, so very eager to love and be loved. He leaned in for another of his Guide's kisses, this one tasting of spice and bitter chocolate, wine, tenderness. He stroked Blair's tongue with his own, teasing and exploring, mapping all the minute gradations in the flesh, feeling the rough rise of taste buds, the dip at its center, the strong muscle on the underside. His Guide was an endless mystery; there was always something new to learn about him. He wanted to know everything, hungry for each new revelation, every small morsel of information. More than anything else, he craved the intimacy that came from such knowledge. 

He moved Blair onto his back and held himself above him, looking down at his Guide. Blair watched him intently, blue eyes locked onto him, reaching up to trace the bones of his face with shaking fingers. Jim pressed a kiss to his lover's palm as it passed by his lips, and Blair smiled at him sweetly, apparently understanding all that simple gesture was meant to convey. 

For the first time in his life, Jim felt the true gift of his senses, without worry, without resisting them. Lying naked with Blair, their bodies pressed together so tenderly, he understood, at long last, the meaning of ecstasy, the measure of joy. It was the sharp, rich scent of his lover's arousal, telling him just how much Blair wanted him. It was every whimper, groan, gasp, begging little whisper that escaped his Guide's lips, each one an expression of love and desire. It was the exquisite intimacy of bare flesh brushing against bare flesh, the living, pulsing warmth of naked skin trembling beneath questing fingers. It was the sight of a wanton, passion-drunk Blair stretched out beneath him, arching like a cat into his caresses, twisting and writhing with want. It was the delicate taste of the inside of a wrist, the salty pleasure of collarbone and chest, the sugary brown sweetness of aroused nipples, the earthy richness in the crease between thigh and groin, the welcome bitterness of precum dripping from his lover's cock. 

It was Blair, filling his awareness, imprinted on each one of his senses, the most valuable gift he'd ever received, the everlasting bond of Sentinel to Guide, sacred birthright. 

In some part of his heart, Jim understood perfectly how important this was. He took his time as he relearned his Guide, not wanting to rush any kiss or caress, refusing to shortchange any of his senses or miss out on touching and tasting any part of Blair's body. It was a fact-finding mission after all, and he acquired much new knowledge. One of Blair's nipple, the right, was more sensitive than the other--he'd known that before. But one of his elbows, the left, tasted minutely saltier than its mate. That was a new discovery. 

"Jim, please..." Blair moaned, thrashing his head from side to side, begging Jim to finish it. 

"Yes," Jim agreed, unbearably hard himself, more than ready for release. 

Blair spread his legs wide, and Jim moved on top of him, positioning himself, gently pressing their erections together. //Like coming home.// Nothing had ever felt so good, so right. Finally, he was back where he belonged. He reached between their bodies, using their own juices, spreading the slickness between them, easing the way. Blair began to move, impatient, thrusting against Jim's body, groaning loudly, desperate for more. Jim thrust back, matching him stroke for stroke, both of them reclaiming the rhythm of their mutual pleasure. 

It had been too long, and neither of them could last or even wanted to. Jim felt the wet warmth of Blair's orgasm against his stomach and that prompted him to follow his Guide over the edge, his throat dry with excitement and emotion, his whole body shaking. This was what he'd been missing all those times when he'd fucked Blair silly only to feel so empty and unsatisfied. Finally, he was making love to his Guide again, reforging their amazing connection, their bond, his one hope, the only thing that could turn the nightmare of heightened senses into this unique power and joy. 

With whatever small corner of his mind that was still operational, he thought to relieve his lover of the burden of his weight, rolling over onto his back, pulling Blair against his side. 

They lay entangled in each other's arms, and Jim blinked back the tears. "I missed this," he told Blair. "I missed you." 

Blair smiled and snuggled closer. "Me too." 

Jim pressed a kiss to his lover's forehead. "I'm so sorry I wasn't there for you all those months. I'm sorry we lost that time. It's been so long, too long, since I loved you, _really_ loved you. I can't tell you how much I regret that, Chief." 

"I'm just glad to have you back," Blair said, laying his head on Jim's chest. 

Jim tightened his arms around Blair, cradling him. "I'm still worried," he admitted. "Even though this was so wonderful, I just keep waiting for the other thing to come back." As he said the words, he could feel the sick sense of dread seeping into his veins. 

"I know. I'm worried too. But we'll figure it out. We'll take care of it. I was thinking maybe..." 

"What?" 

"I don't know how you'll feel about it." 

"If you've got some ideas, I want to hear them, Chief." 

"I was thinking it might be helpful if you talked to Elizabeth about it." 

Jim felt his color rise. "Umm...didn't you already tell her?" 

"I told her what I knew before you got here. I'm sorry. I was worried about you. I didn't know what else to do." 

Jim shook his head. "You don't have anything to apologize for. You did the right thing. So you told her about that night?" 

Blair nodded. "And about what happened afterwards, that you stopped touching me. She was the one who realized you'd broken the bond and that you were in trouble." 

"And you think it could help if I told her the rest of it?" 

"She's had experience with lots of Sentinels. Maybe she's heard of something like this before. I think it's the best place to start, if you're up to it." 

Jim watched Blair carefully, seeing the urgency in his face, even though he was trying to hide it. "Yes, I can do that. I just hope she can help with this...whatever this thing is. I don't ever want to hurt you or cause you to leave again." 

Blair caressed his arm. "Have some faith, Jim. We're Sentinel and Guide. Destiny is on our side." 

* * *

Elizabeth looked up from her paperwork and found Jim hovering in the doorway of her office. 

"Hi," she said and smiled. 

"Hi," he said, shifting nervously from one foot to the other. ""Uh, Elizabeth, I just...is this a good time or are you busy?" 

She'd been wondering if and when he'd come talk to her about it. She was glad he finally had. "Actually, this is a great time. I've got a light patient load today, and I'm not seeing anyone else until four." 

"You're in the middle of paperwork. I don't want to interrupt." 

She smiled at him. "You're not interrupting. Come in. Sit down. Please." 

He looked almost dejected she didn't have anything pressing to do, but he came in anyway and sat down in the chair opposite her. She gave him a moment to settle in, to get his bearings. He looked around the room, curiously, still a little unnerved, taking it all in. 

"So what do you think?" she asked. 

"It's nice," he said. "Not exactly what I expected." 

"That's good then. I didn't want it to feel too much like a shrink's office." 

Elizabeth had decorated her new space with comfortable, overstuffed furniture, light colored and cheerful, with plenty of homey knickknacks spread throughout. She had the requisite couch, but she'd covered it in throw pillows to make it less imposing. There were two chairs as well, so her patients had a choice about where to sit, whatever would make them feel most at ease. 

"I'm still nervous," Jim confessed. 

"There's no need," she told him. "I'm not your psychiatrist. I'm your friend. I promise not to do therapy on you. But I'd be happy to listen if you want to tell me about it. I really would like to help." 

Jim nodded. "I appreciate that. It's just kind of hard, you know?" 

"I sure do, Jim. It's never easy to talk about intimate things like these, but I really do think it will help us figure out what's going on and how we can fix it. So if you're up to it, tell me what happened, whatever you feel comfortable enough to confide in me. I'll probably end up asking a lot of questions. It's kind of a hazard of the profession. But you don't have to tell me anything you don't want to." 

"Okay. I think I can do that. I mean, I really do want to figure this thing out, and I know Blair already told you what happened that night." 

"Yes, he did. But I'd like to hear about it from your perspective. I kind of got the feeling from him that it wasn't just about that one night. There was something more going on, wasn't there?" 

He nodded. "It started out so insidiously it took me a while even to recognize that something odd was going on. But I definitely knew something was wrong...oh, a good month before that night." 

"So what was happening to you?" 

He smiled slightly. "It's funny to see you in shrink mode." 

She smiled back at him. "I guess it's harder to get out of my professional demeanor here in this office than I thought. Maybe we should go into the living room?" 

"No, that's okay. I'm just used to your being Elizabeth, another Sentinel, not Dr. Knowlton, the psychiatrist." 

"So tell me, Sentinel to Sentinel, what happened?" 

"I don't even know. It was like something came over me...this terrible need. I just couldn't get enough of him." 

"Sexually?" 

Jim blushed and nodded. 

"Was it a specific kind of sexual contact you wanted?" 

He nodded again. "Yes...um, intercourse. Me...ah, doing it to him." 

"Was that a usual part of your sexual relationship?" 

"Yes." 

"Was it the main part?" 

"Not really. We do it...have intercourse, I mean, usually a couple of times a week. We do other stuff the rest of the time." 

"Oral sex, mutual masturbation?" she asked. 

Elizabeth watched him carefully. If he were anyone else, someone without covert ops training, he would have flinched openly. He managed to keep his stoic demeanor in place. But she knew he was an extremely private person and answering questions about his lovemaking with his partner was about the last thing he'd ever want to do. She took it as a testament to the true depth of his love for Blair that he'd make a sacrifice like this for him. 

"Yes," he finally answered. "Both...we give each other hand jobs and blow jobs whenever we don't have time or are too tired for intercourse. Or when that's just what feels good." 

"But you don't normally have intercourse with Blair as the active partner?" 

"Actually, we've never done it that way. I mean, we talked about it at the beginning. We both kind of assumed that we'd switch off, but somehow it just never happened. And then we stopped even talking about it. I don't know...I guess it just seemed...do you think that's significant?" 

"I don't know, Jim. That's probably up to you to decide. Can you tell me more about how it felt when you couldn't control your desire for Blair? How did it differ from how you usually felt about him?" 

Jim thought it over. "Before I...it used to always be about Blair. I wanted _him_ , not just sexually. It was a complete thing, you know? I wanted to touch him, kiss him, talk to him, spend time with him, make love with him, _enjoy_ him. That's how I eventually figured out that something was really wrong. It became less and less about him, less about our relationship, and more and more just about the sex. Am I making sense here?" 

"Completely. Did you ever want other partners?" 

"No. It was always Blair." 

"And you always fixated on intercourse?" 

"Yes." 

"Was the sex satisfying? Did you achieve orgasm?" 

Jim couldn't look at her, keeping his eyes glued to the hands resting in his lap. He went silent. 

"I'm sorry to have to ask you that. I know it's extremely private, and I'd certainly understand if this was one of those questions you'd rather not answer. But if you can talk about it, I think it's important. It could really help our understanding of whatever this is." 

"That's the worst part of all," Jim mumbled, and if she weren't a Sentinel, she never would have heard him. 

"What, Jim?" 

"It was _never_ satisfying, _never_ enough. I mean, I always came, but I can't say I ever really enjoyed it. It didn't make us closer the way it used to. It felt...I don't know, mechanical somehow, like even though I was driven to fuck him, it wasn't by passion." 

"It was a compulsion?" 

"Yes, exactly." 

"And it escalated?" 

Jim nodded. "I just kept needing it worse and worse, but the more sex I had, the less satisfying it was." 

"And that night?" 

"I guess things just reached a crisis point. I'm not sure really. I still don't remember a lot of it. I just know what Blair told me." 

"Tell me what you do recall." 

"I remember coming home, eating dinner. Sitting on the sofa afterwards, talking, kissing. I dimly recall going upstairs, getting undressed, starting to make love. But that's it. After that, it's a blank, until I came to and found Blair beneath me...and his blood on me." 

"He told me it wasn't serious." 

"I hurt my Guide, Elizabeth. I made him bleed." 

"I know, Jim. I understand." 

"Do you? Do you have any idea what that feels like?" 

She nodded. "I might have only thought I hurt Sam, but it was real enough to me at the time. I really believed I had his blood on my hands. I know how horrible that is." 

"I'm sorry, Elizabeth. I know what you went through. I didn't mean to discount it." 

"I know you didn't. I've thought about it a lot over the last two years, and I really believe that the impulse to protect the Guide runs so deep in us that we have an actual physical aversion to spilling our Guide's blood. It hurts us, quite literally." 

"When I realized what I'd done to him, when I saw and smelled his blood, I...it's hard to describe." 

"Did it kind of feel like you'd been electrocuted?" 

He nodded. "Yeah, that's as close to it as I think you could get--a kind of sick, shocked feeling all over, and the sense that I deserved the pain, that it was my punishment," he said sadly. 

"You'd never had a problem with his bleeding from intercourse before?" 

He shook his head. "We were always very careful. That's why we only did it when we had plenty of time. I never wanted to hurt him." 

Elizabeth put her hand on his arm. He looked so full of despair it broke her heart. "Of course you didn't want to hurt him. No one doubts that, certainly not Blair." 

"I don't know how he can forgive me." 

"Because he loves you, and he realizes there's something more at work here." 

"Does any of this sound familiar? Have you ever heard of anything like it with other Sentinels?" 

"Not with any of the others. But it does kind of remind me...let me just throw out something here. I don't know if this is it, so bear with me." 

"Sure. Please. I want to hear any ideas you have." 

"Well, this isn't anything I learned in medical school or my Sentinel research or anything. It's just something I've talked about with friends. It seems to be something a lot of women go through in their 30s if they haven't already had children. When they're ovulating, they notice a marked increase in sex drive. It makes them restless and aggressive and....well, horny really." 

"Horny, huh?" 

"Very. It's almost compulsive, like they can't get enough no matter how much sex they have." 

"Well, that sounds familiar." 

"The problem is that it's not really about sex, at least not for pleasure's sake. It's a reproductive impulse." 

"Elizabeth, are you suggesting I'm in heat?" 

"Sort of. Maybe your body is pushing you to procreate. You know, the old biological clock thing. The drive to reproduce is the most basic instinct we have, and it's extremely powerful. That would explain why the sex was never satisfying. The women I know say the same thing. It doesn't matter how many orgasms they have. If they don't make a baby, the compulsion doesn't go away, and they don't feel satiated." 

"How do women stand it?" 

"Fortunately, we're not fertile all the time. We get our periods, and it goes away." 

"I can't believe I'm saying this, but I wish I were that lucky." 

Elizabeth lifted an eyebrow. "You wouldn't think so the first time you had cramps. Anyway, Jim, this is just a theory, one possibility. Does it resonate at all? Have you ever thought of having children?" 

"Well, the way you describe how your women friends feel--that sounds familiar. In fact, it's almost exactly like what I've been going through. But honestly, I've never really given kids much thought." 

"That's not especially surprising. As I said, it's a biological impulse. Your head and heart may not want kids, while your body does." 

Jim hesitated, and she watched him working something out for himself. "I have...kids have been on my mind these days. I actually asked to hold Carla, and I liked it." 

Elizabeth broke into a smile. "My little angel wins people over like that." 

"It felt really great to hold her. And I...one of the hallucinations I had when my senses were all screwed up was of a little boy." 

"So maybe this is a Sentinel-induced drive toward procreation. We may all have an especially powerful urge to pass along our genes, since they're of particular value to the tribe. You always wanted Blair and not some other partner, because as your Guide, he's the most genetically advantageous choice." 

"Except, of course, that he's a man." 

"But he's your mate, and your body may not quite process the fact that you can't make him pregnant. That's why you always wanted intercourse, why you kept getting more and more desperate, why you kept needing more and more sex." 

"I was trying to knock him up." 

"Not consciously, of course, but on some level. Maybe. I don't know. It's just a theory, Jim. It would help explain what happened that night when you lost control. Your behavior was driven by instinct, bypassing the higher cognitive processes. That would explain why you don't remember it." 

"What the hell am I supposed to do about this, Elizabeth, if that's really what's going on?" 

"I don't know, Jim. I mean, if you want kids, there are options. You and Blair will have to sit down together and decide how you want to proceed." 

"What are we going to do if we decide against it? How am I going to get this to stop?" 

"Some women decide not to have children, and they find a way to manage the drive. I feel pretty sure that being conscious of it will help. If the two of you decide not to have children, you'll have to find a way to channel that energy. Maybe meditation or martial arts discipline. I'm sure Blair can help figure something out." 

"I don't want to tell him this." 

Elizabeth sighed and shook her head. 

"I know," Jim said. "It's how this all got so out of hand in the first place, but I know how he'll react and I don't want to hurt him." 

"It doesn't have to be a bad thing. The two of you could have a family together. I really think you'd be wonderful parents." 

"He'll jump to conclusions. He'll blame himself for not being able to give me what I need. He'll think I ought to be with someone else." 

"He knows better than that." 

"This hits on all his insecurities about us." 

"I really think you're underestimating him." 

"And I'm not sure if this is even it. I mean, it sounds like it, but..." 

"Maybe you should take some time and think it over. Go with your gut. If you really feel this isn't it, we'll explore it further. We _will_ figure it out, I promise." 

"Yeah, okay, I'll think it over, see what I come up with." 

"But don't put off talking about it with him too long. It really is only going to make it worse." 

"I just don't want to hurt him any more than I already have." 

"I understand that, but just from my own experience with Sam, I really do believe that what hurts our Guides the most is shutting them out." 

Jim nodded sadly. "I know you're right." 

"So let him in." 

"I'm really trying. I swear I am. I just don't want to lose him." 

Elizabeth patted his arm. "You won't, Jim. There aren't many sure things in the world, but Sentinels and Guides staying together, that's one of them." 

* * *

<<<Jim was alone in the jungle, and the light was fading. This was not a good state of affairs. The last place he wanted to be was lost in the thick cover of the rain forest, without food or water, far from camp, stranded overnight. Human beings never thought of themselves as prey, but he had enough experience with the wilderness to know there were plenty of animal species that didn't share the opinion. He stopped for a moment to try and get his bearings, using his Sentinel senses, searching for any clues, something, so he would know which way to go. 

There was nothing, just the predictable sounds of wind and wildlife. He headed on in the same direction, something compelling him, drawing him onward. Somehow, this path felt well worn, as if he'd traveled it before, but he couldn't quite place it. He picked up the pace, walking faster and faster, before breaking into a run. Ahead of him, he could see a clearing, maybe a mile off. He hurried. There was something there, waiting--an answer, a miracle, the key to his future. 

He pushed through the dense underbrush and stepped out into clear light. And there it was. The Temple of the Jaguars. At last. 

Jim could never have predicted the warm rush of feeling that went through him. //Home.// His blood sang with that single, perfect word. At last, he had found the one place he belonged completely, the ancestral home of all Sentinels, the sacred source. 

He dropped to his knees, clutching his hands together, reverently, almost prayerfully. //I finally found it. Thank you. Thank you.// The structure was deceptively simple in appearance, the walls formed of stone blocks, light grey, rough cut, with a large bronze door, two paneled, elaborately carved with mythic scenes that he couldn't quite decipher, but that still felt familiar somehow. A pair of jaguars, carved from pale, smooth stone, probably marble, guarded the entrance. 

It was like a siren song, the temple calling to him. He had never wanted anything so badly. He approached slowly, breathing heavily, his heart racing, a thrill of excitement inside him. He stood by the door and touched it lightly, fingering the deep lines and grooves of the reliefs, studying them in detail, trying to commit them to memory, so they would always be part of him. He took a deep breath, holding it in anticipation, and prepared to go inside, finally, to discover the secrets that were the special legacy of all Sentinels. 

But the door wouldn't budge. The knob didn't turn, and the heavy bronze panels sat immovable on their hinges. He tried again and again, tugging, pushing against it with his shoulder, banging and calling to anyone who might hear him. He kept at it so long that he broke into a heavy sweat from the exertion, and he cursed loudly and repeatedly, beginning to lose his temper. He had never felt more disappointed or a greater sense of desperation. Everything that could ever matter was on the other side of that door. He had to get in. He'd never needed anything so much in his life. 

"Only true initiates can pass through the door," a voice spoke behind him, as spare and elusive as the wind, as old as time, filled with the wisdom of the ages. 

He turned, and it was Elizabeth, or at least something that looked like her, a pale, ghostly version of the person he knew. 

"To be welcome in the temple, you must open your heart fully," another voice said, stepping out of the jungle's deep shadows, a spirit in the form of Elena. 

"You must have no secrets. You cannot be ruled by fear," someone said behind him, and he whirled around to find a Clare look-alike. 

"Can you help me open the door?" he asked. 

"Why?" the Elena spirit answered his question with one of her own. 

"I want to go inside," he said. 

"Why?" Elizabeth asked. 

"I _need_ what's in there," he said, irritably, his voice beginning to rise. 

"What do you believe that is?" Clare urged him. 

"I don't know exactly...something important, answers maybe." 

"You already have all the answers inside you. All you have to do is set them free," Elena told him. 

"I don't know what that means. Why can't you people, or whatever you are, speak in plain English instead of riddles?" 

"Why are you here?" Elizabeth asked, ignoring his outburst. 

"I don't know," he said. 

"Yes, you do," Elena argued. 

"It's...I'm having a problem, with my Guide." 

"Your Guide is the problem?" Clare asked. 

"No!" Jim said, frustrated. " _I'm_ the problem. I...I hurt my Guide. I can't control myself around him." 

"Good," Clare said, approving of him. "It's important to understand the source of one's troubles, that they do not come from outside but from within." 

"What do I do?" Jim asked, feeling increasingly desperate. 

"What is the problem?" Elizabeth asked. 

"I just told you." 

"No," Elena said. "What is the problem?" 

"I want something from him. I need it. Very badly," Jim answered, lowering his eyes. 

"What do you want?" Clare asked. 

"Sex," he whispered. 

"No," she said. "What do you want?" 

"Completion?" he guessed, feeling surprised that this was what had come to mind. 

"Yes," Elizabeth said. "Completion. It is natural for Sentinels and Guides to seek this from one another." 

"But you can never get what you're unwilling to give," Elena explained. 

"I'd give him anything he wanted, I swear I would. I'd do _anything_ for him," Jim declared passionately. 

"No," Clare said. "There is something you have not done, have not given." 

"What do you withhold from your Guide?" Elena asked. 

"Nothing!" he yelled, his temper flaring. 

"Yes," Elizabeth said. "What do you withhold from your Guide? What have you made it impossible for him even to ask you?" 

"Stop saying that!" he screamed. 

"What do you refuse your Guide?" Clare asked, her voice cool and level. 

Jim couldn't stop the tears; they ran down his cheeks. "Completion! There! I've said it. Are you happy?" 

Elena regarded him a long moment, her unearthly eyes boring into him, as if he were the mystery and she were trying to figure him out. "Why do you refuse him?" 

He closed his eyes tightly against the pain. "I'm afraid," he admitted. 

"What are you afraid of?" Elizabeth asked. 

"I don't know. Maybe that it will make me less of a man." 

"That is a reasonable explanation. However, it is not the correct one," Elizabeth said. 

"I'm trying to answer your questions," Jim protested. 

"But we don't believe you," Elena said. 

" _You_ don't believe you," Clare added. 

"Completion is not a single act," Elizabeth explained. 

"The act of intercourse is merely a symbol of what you are actually afraid to give," Clare said. 

"You have given others the gift of your body," Elena said. 

"So why never to your Guide?" Elizabeth said. 

"Because it is not sex that is important, but completion," Clare said. 

"Why do you deny your Guide completion when it is what all Sentinels and Guides seek from one another?" Elena asked. 

"What do you fear?" Elizabeth asked. 

Jim hesitated, wrestling with the answer. Finally he said, his voice a mere whisper, "That if I give him everything I am, he'll finally understand that I don't deserve him, and he'll leave. " His voice shook with a repressed terror he'd never before allowed into consciousness. 

The three women looked at each other with puzzled expressions, and Jim felt certain there was communication in their silence. 

"We do not understand _deserve_ in this instance," Clare said. "This Guide is for you. A Guide does not leave his Sentinel. You know this already. _Deserve_ has no meaning here." 

"He died because of me," Jim said, letting the old, unresolved guilt out into the open. 

Elizabeth shook her head. "He died because he is the Shaman and must live in both worlds at once. His death created the door." 

"And your love allowed him to return back through it, to be reborn," Elena said. 

"In the earthly realm, the Guide anchors the Sentinel, but in the spirit land, it is the Sentinel who anchors the Guide," Clare explained. 

"I don't want to hurt him ever again," Jim whispered. 

"So don't," Elena said, the smallest hint of a smile lighting her face. 

"How can I be sure?" he asked. 

"When the need to take is overpowering, it is time to give," Clare said. 

"When the urge is to dominate, it is necessary to surrender," Elizabeth said. 

"Fear of loss creates an imbalance. This is always a destructive force," Elena told him. 

"Sentinels and Guides must be equal partners," Elizabeth said. 

"They may keep no secrets from one another," Clare said. 

"They must bring each other completion," Elena said. 

"Your Guide has already given himself to you without reserve," Elizabeth said. 

"Now you must do the same for him," Clare said. >>>

Jim woke with a start and sat up. It took a moment to get his bearings--guest bedroom, Elizabeth's house, late afternoon, he'd lain down for a nap and had a dream. A moment later, it registered that he wasn't alone. 

"Are you okay, man?" Blair asked, concerned, hovering in the doorway. 

"Yeah, Chief. I'm okay." 

"A nightmare?" 

He shook his head. "Not really. More like a dream, but kind of frustrating, you know?" 

Blair sat down on the bed beside him. "Mmmm," he said, and Jim could tell he was focused on something else. 

"It's okay," he reassured his lover. 

"What?" Blair asked, surprise in his eyes. 

"Whatever it is that's making your heart beat just a little bit too fast." 

Blair smiled softly. "It's no use trying to keep anything from a Sentinel, is it?" 

He shook his head. "And you never need to. It's okay, whatever you want to say, Chief. Just go ahead." 

"It was something I wanted to ask you. I was just wondering if you'd talked to Elizabeth, you know, about what's going on." 

Jim nodded. "Yeah, this morning, while you were out on the porch." 

"So?" Blair asked, curiosity blazing across his face. "Had she heard of anything like this with other Sentinels? Did she have any ideas?" 

"No other cases, but she did have a theory," Jim said. 

"What, man? Tell me," Blair demanded, with barely repressed excitement. 

Jim had hoped to put off talking with Blair about Elizabeth's theory as long as possible, but he should have known that would be impossible. Of course, Blair had every right to know, but he was afraid of his reaction. His lover was very sensitive, and they were still in the process of patching things up. He didn't want anything to get in the way of that. Besides, now that he'd had the dream, he wasn't entirely sure that Elizabeth's hypothesis was even right. He just needed a little more time to think it through, before trying to explain it to Blair, before he was ready to take action. 

A pair of insistent blue eyes bored into him. He didn't have time for all that. Blair needed to know now. "She thinks it's my Sentinel biological clock ticking," he said. 

Blair frowned, looking puzzled. "You mean..." 

"Elizabeth thinks there's something about my Sentinel biology that's pushing me to reproduce. That's why I always want intercourse, why I started calling it fucking, why I could never get satisfied, because it's not about love or pleasure. It's about offspring. That's why it didn't quite feel human. It's the most primitive kind of urge driving me. Elizabeth said something about it bypassing the higher levels of processing. I'm not sure what that means exactly, but she seemed to think you'd get it." 

A flash of understanding lit Blair's face. "That would explain why you couldn't remember what happened that last time. It was like a zone out, but with a purpose, like your instincts hijacked you and were completely driving your behavior. That's why it didn't register in your consciousness. That also explains why it escalated, why you kept getting more and more frustrated and desperate, because of course you couldn't actually make me pregnant. So you had to keep trying." 

"It's just a theory, Chief." 

Blair slid off the bed and paced back and forth. "But it makes a lot of sense, man. I mean, the desire to reproduce is one of the strongest, most primal instincts we have. There's a whole branch of biology, called socio-biology, that sees all human behavior as ultimately originating from that drive to thrive. Given how important the Sentinel is to the survival of the tribe, your instinct may be especially pronounced," he said, his hands moving expressively as he spoke, until suddenly he stopped in his tracks. "But where does this leave us, man? I mean, you can fuck me until the end of time, and you're never gonna knock me up, no matter how potent you are, big guy." 

Jim appreciated his lover's attempt at levity, but he wasn't the least bit fooled by it. He recognized the very real fear in his eyes. 

"All it means for us is that we have one more problem to solve with this Sentinel thing, like all the other ones we've handled together." 

"Maybe this is different. Maybe you need...you should have kids, Jim." 

"What?" 

"I mean it. I don't want to stand in your way, and the world could use more people like you, with your gift." 

"Blair--" 

"I'm not saying it would be easy for me to stand by, while you...but I'd find some way to handle it. I'd have to." 

Jim cocked his head and looked at his lover skeptically. "And where do you think I'm going to find a woman interested in that kind of arrangement, who'll give birth to my child but doesn't care that I'm in love with you and plan to spend the rest of my life at your side." 

"Not all women are looking for husbands these days. Some women just want a baby. I mean, it is the 90s and all. We could ask around, put in a personal ad or something. You never know, there might be..." 

Jim shook his head. "I don't think so, Chief. It's hard enough raising a child, without trying to do it with a stranger you don't have any feelings for." 

Blair paled. "Or maybe...I don't know, man. Maybe you need a traditional family. Maybe..." 

"No." 

Blair was so relieved he looked like he was about to cry. 

"What did you think I was going to say, baby? Thanks for the last five years, but I have to move on now so I can turn out a kid or two before the biological alarm goes off. Never gonna happen, Chief." 

"I...ummm..." 

Jim pulled him close and hugged him hard. "We're forever, Blair. We both have to learn to trust in that, okay?" 

Blair nodded and then was quiet, thinking. "We could check into other alternatives." 

"Adoption?" 

"Yeah. Or a donated egg carried by a surrogate. That wouldn't have the same legal and emotional issues as finding a woman to co-parent with." 

"What do _you_ think?" Jim asked. 

"I don't know, man. I mean, I have to admit that I never really gave it much thought. I kind of assumed that since we were together having a child just wasn't in the cards for me, and I was, like, fine with that. But now that I'm thinking about it, there's a part of me that would really love to raise a kid with you. I mean, you'd be an awesome father, and I think I'd be pretty good, too." 

Jim smiled at him fondly. "You'd be wonderful." 

Blair leaned in to give Jim a quick kiss on the cheek. "Thanks, man. I appreciate that. So, yeah, on the one hand, it's kind of an exciting prospect. But then there's a part of me that wonders if we'd even be able to get a child since we're two men and if we did, I'd worry that someone could come back later and take the kid away from us because they didn't like our lifestyle or some shit like that. I can't imagine anything more devastating than losing a child you've grown to love. And finally, there's just this selfish part of me that wonders how we'd manage it all with our schedules and all the pressures we already have and the Sentinel stuff on top of everything else. Something would have to give, and it couldn't be the kid because that would be wrong. It couldn't be our jobs because we'd have, like, a family to support. So it would be _us_ , our relationship that would suffer, and I'm greedy, man. I _want_ my Jim-time. I know it's probably not the right time to be deciding this because I'm still not over missing you. But finally, I'm just not sure if I'm up to the challenge of raising a child. I mean, I realize that no one ever really _knows_ , and you just do the best you can and all. I guess I'm just not sure if it's what I want." 

"Me either." 

"What?" Blair asked, completely taken aback. 

"It's my body and my instincts that are hot to reproduce. My mind and my heart have serious doubts." 

"So you don't think you want a child?" 

Jim tried to organize his thoughts. "It's...if we could make a baby together, I don't think there would be any question. I'd want to create that with you, bring new life into the world that was a part of us both, a representation of our love. That would be just...oh God, I don't know how to even begin to describe how amazing that would be. But I don't want to make a baby with anyone else, and I don't think I want to raise somebody else's child. I'm just not that selfless. _I_ don't want to give up my Blair-time." 

Blair nodded, looking pensive. "So what do we do about that ticking Sentinel clock of yours?" 

"Like I said before, it's only a theory. Elizabeth had never seen anything like this before in any of the other Sentinels, and she was just making her best guess based on what I could tell her. There could be another explanation." 

"I don't know, man." 

"I think it might be more specifically about us than just some biological urge gone mad, more about our connection, about how I am in our relationship, something about Sentinels and Guides that I haven't quite gotten straight. It's unbalancing how we are with one another." 

"How..." 

"The dream. I was at the temple. There were...well, I don't know exactly what they were, some kind of spirits, I guess. They talked to me. They said a lot of things. I just need some time to think about it, to figure it out." 

"I can help you." 

"Not this time, Chief." 

"Jim, I thought we agreed..." 

"I know, I know. But I swear, it's not like that. I don't know how I know this, Chief, but this is just something I have to do on my own. It's my responsibility. Only I can figure it out." 

Blair looked torn, wanting to trust him but still skittish from their recent experience. 

"I promise, baby. I'm not shutting you out. I just need a little time, twenty-four hours, to figure things out, then I'll tell you everything. Can you give me that? Can you trust me?" 

Blair looked at him, appraisingly, searching his face for signs. "Okay, Jim. I'm down with that, and I _do_ trust you. Just make sure you trust me back, huh?" 

Jim nodded and took his lover into his arms. "You got it, Chief, and thank you. You won't regret it. I promise." 

Continued in part four.


	4. Chapter 4

Due to the length of this story, it has been split into five parts.

## Progeny

by Annabelle Leigh

Continued from part three.

* * *

Progeny - part four  


It was like being a beggar at someone else's feast, cold and hungry while the party-goers were comfortable and well fed. That's how she felt watching the warm connection of the people inside that house--cast outside the circle of happiness, invisible, uninvited, unwanted. She was so cold and alone, unloved, isolated, unseen--all the things she'd struggled with since her Sentinel had died, intensified now by the painful comparison. 

And angry, more angry than she could ever remember feeling in her life. 

When she'd first arrived in San Francisco, she'd gone directly to Dr. Knowlton's house, only to find that the doctor and her husband had moved. In the end, it had proved only a small setback. She had been able to track them down easily enough. But somehow it had incensed her. She realized it bordered on paranoia, but she couldn't help feeling that the doctor was hiding from her, trying to deny her the second chance she needed so desperately, intending to keep this new Sentinel from her. She could not understand how the homing instinct had failed, why it had not led her directly to the doctor as it had years before. She hesitated to explore that thought too closely, afraid of what she would find, the nagging doubt that had been with her since she had decided on this course of action. She pushed the uncertainty away and settled instead on blaming the doctor, determined not to let the other woman steal this opportunity away from her. 

After she found the new address, she'd jumped into a taxi and had gone straight there. She'd fully intended to knock on the door and state her demand up front. //I want a new Sentinel to guide.// She'd even managed to get as far as the front porch, poised to ring the bell, when something had come over her, and she just couldn't do it. She'd quickly turned back, running down the steps, walking hurriedly up the block, her heart pounding, as if she were in terrible danger. She had no idea why she'd reacted that way. 

Since then, she'd come back every day and hovered near the house, across the street or down the block, like some kind of phantom, the same insubstantial feeling she'd had back at the grain warehouse. She'd not had the courage to approach the house again, but she'd had plenty of time to observe its occupants. What she had seen only served to make her more angry. She was so alone, and they were so connected to one another, a house full of Sentinels and their Guides, lovers, lifemates, friends, inseparable, now and for always. In her heart, the seeds of envy had already been planted. As she'd stood alone and miserable outside that house that was so full of life, those seeds had begun to germinate, sending their roots deep into her soul, growing, unfurling, producing a bitter harvest. 

That's when she had begun to hate them, with every fiber of her being. 

All of them, except for the one Sentinel she had sensed, the one she had come all the way from Cascade to find. This one she coveted. This one she already claimed as her own. The initial flash of instinct had told her that this Sentinel was not very strong, with only a very weak bond with another Guide. Now that she had arrived, she found that the connection was stronger than she had thought, but it was by no means complete. She could still have this Sentinel for herself. She could still get what she wanted. She still had a shot at regaining the extraordinary life. All she had to do was reach out and take it. 

Instinct also told her they would try to stop her, all of them, all the Sentinels and Guides in that house. They would not understand. They mistakenly believed this Sentinel was destined for another. She would not try to reason with them. She would not knock on the door and ask for what she wanted. That seemed like pathetic groveling, and she hated them far too much to give them that satisfaction, to give them the opportunity to further deny her, to make her any more of an outcast than she already was. 

No, she would take matters into her own hands. She would use their weaknesses against them. Her sojourn at the grain warehouse had given her all the information she needed to outmaneuver them. She'd seen into all the doctor's worst fears. She knew the other woman's guilt as if it were her own. She would use it all to her advantage. 

Whatever conscience or fear or moral scruple she'd ever had was gone now. No matter what she had to do, she would not let them stop her. She _would_ get what she wanted. She _would_ be a Guide again. 

Only then she would be complete. 

* * *

Jim had taken up his spot again at the table on the terrace, his favorite place to think. He still had so much to sort out. His dream had only further confused matters, but strangely enough, he finally felt a glimmer of hope. The spirits in his dream had not given the impression that this problem was in any way permanent. He had created it with his choices, just as Sam had suggested, and so he could also remedy it, by doing things differently. 

He stared out over the lawn. Everything was bathed in gold, the light heavy and lush as the sun hovered low in the sky, a last, spectacular coda to the day, before the sun began to set in earnest and twilight descended. Jim marveled over the play of color and shadow on the grass, in the trees, along the slate walkway. There were layers and layers of texture, elegant gradations of hue, so many subtle pleasures for Sentinel sight. Jim fervently hoped he'd never lose his newfound appreciation of the world's sensual wonders. 

//Like Blair.// The thought made him smile. If there was one thing he could be certain of, it was that Blair would never fail to delight him. 

A slight rustling noise by the terrace doors drew his attention. Clare stood in the doorframe, watching him, apparently wanting to talk, but not willing to disturb him. 

He smiled at her, pulled out a chair and motioned her over. She hesitated a moment, watching him carefully, feeling out the situation, making sure she was truly welcome. Finally, she joined him at the table, accepting the seat he'd offered. 

"Hey," he said, smiling at her. "How's it going?" 

"Okay, I guess." She fiddled with her bracelet, which she hadn't taken off since Elena had given it to her. 

"I see you like your surprise," he commented. 

She nodded, staring down at her wrist. "It's the nicest present anyone has ever given me." 

There was something so unbearably sad in her voice. It pained Jim to hear it coming from somebody so young, a child really, certainly someone who deserved to feel precious and treasured. 

"It's not that my parents don't give me things," she continued. "They're very good at spending money on me. It's just that they never pay attention to what I'm really like, so the things they buy me never match who I am. And I just end up feeling ungrateful, because none of that stuff ever means anything to me. Does that make sense?" 

Jim nodded. "Perfectly. My father was very much like that. It was easier for him to give his money than himself. It was preferable to him to think about who I _ought_ to be, rather than to see me for who I truly was. So no matter what kind of things he gave me, I never really got what I wanted." 

She stared at him. "You really do understand. The kids I go to school with, my friends, they just think I'm crazy. They think I should milk it for all its worth and enjoy it. But I can't. I don't. It just makes me feel more...I don't know...empty I guess." 

"But the bracelet, that does make you happy?" 

She smiled. "It's so beautiful, and it's just my taste. And it's even my birthstone," she said, happily, proudly. "I feel like Elena really saw me. She cared enough to go to the trouble. But..." Her face clouded. 

"What?" 

"I've been such a bitch to her. I've been nasty to everybody, actually. I don't even know why. I just feel so mean sometimes, like I _want_ to fight, and I take it out on whoever's around. And that's what I don't understand. Why would Elena do something so nice for me? I don't deserve it." 

It was like listening to a clone of his younger self, talking about what life was like, if he ever could have managed to be so clear in understanding and so articulate in expression. He wanted to reach out and hug her, to drive all those poisonous thoughts out of her head, to show her the true value of who she was. 

//I don't deserve it.// The sentence jarred his memory, bringing back his dream and the spirits confusion when he'd said he didn't deserve Blair. //Of course.// Clare deserved every wonderful thing life had to offer her, including the love and caring of her Guide. Of that he was absolutely certain. So if he applied the same logic to himself, didn't that mean... 

"You know, Clare, I've been doing a lot of thinking about this lately. I've come to realize that we only hurt the people we love when we won't accept what they freely offer, what they _want_ to give us. I mean, they have no way of knowing it's because we feel we don't deserve it. They just think we're rejecting them, that we don't love them back. I don't want to do that anymore. And maybe it really is true that we never get anything we don't deserve, that it's our sense of our own unworthiness that's out of kilter. Don't you think maybe?" 

She frowned, wrestling with that idea. "I don't know," she finally said, very softly. 

"It's so much easier to see in someone else. I look at you and see somebody smart and funny and caring, who just needs to let all that out a little more, somebody who deserves love and a good life. But for myself, there's a part of me that hangs on to the idea that there's nothing I can ever do that will make it so I deserve Blair." 

She looked shocked. "You're kidding, right?" 

He shook his head. 

"But he loves you so much. He's just crazy about you. Any half blind person could see that. He wouldn't feel that way about you if you didn't deserve it, right? It doesn't make sense." 

He smiled at her. "And Elena wouldn't have cared enough to pick out a gift for you that you'd really love if _you_ didn't deserve it, would she?" 

"That doesn't change the fact that I haven't been very nice to her." 

Jim sighed. "Since I've known Blair, I haven't always been very nice to him either. I don't always understand why, but he's stuck with me anyway. Maybe that's just what love means, accepting someone for everything they are, both the good and the bad." 

Clare nodded, light breaking through in her expression. "Yeah, I think I understand that," she said, gathering her thoughts for a moment. "It's like this conversation Elena and I had one day. She said that Dr. Knowlton reminds her a little bit of her mother, and that's why she never feels homesick. And I said that Dr. Knowlton isn't anything like my mother. Elena thought I meant that I don't like Dr. Knowlton, but that's not it at all. She doesn't remind me of my mother, because she actually cares about me. She wants to know who I am, and she doesn't give up on me, even when I'm being a big pain in the butt. I've never had that before. I like it, but it makes me feel weird, like I'm not quit sure what to do about it." 

Clare said it all in a matter-of-fact voice, as if it were the most ordinary thing in the world to believe her mother didn't care about her. //Love starved. God, is this what Blair saw when he first met me? Must have been.// An immense wave of gratitude swept through him. It was only now that he could fully understand what Blair had rescued him from, hopefully the same way Elena would rescue Clare. He felt a flash of anger, hot and pungent, at Clare's ignorant, selfish parents, at his own mother and father. He was overcome by the most desperate need to protect her from all this pain that he understood all too well, as if by saving her he could also save the boy he'd once been. 

"Elizabeth loves you, Clare," he said, very gently. "A lot of people do." 

Her face twisted in pain. "I know you're right. I really do. But when I let myself feel it...I know it's supposed to be this amazing thing to be loved and I _do_ want it, but somehow when I let it in, it just makes me hurt so bad, like I might break into a million pieces. I know that doesn't make any sense. I don't know why it feels like that to me. Why would love hurt, Jim?" she asked, desperately needing an answer from him. 

"Somebody very wise once told me that fear of loss creates an imbalance, and that's always a destructive force. Maybe it hurts so much to let yourself understand how much you're loved because you're afraid once you do that you'll lose it somehow. And maybe you fear you'll lose it because there's a part of you that doesn't believe you ever deserved it in the first place." 

Clare stared down at her hands. "It's hard to accept that anybody can love you when your own mother doesn't." 

Jim started to say that surely her mother did actually love her, but he stopped himself. If she didn't _feel_ loved by her mother, then however much the woman might actually care for her daughter didn't really matter. In this instance, perception was reality. "It's human nature to believe there's something wrong with us when somebody disappoints us, doesn't give us what we need, but the truth is that there's usually something wrong with the other person, some limitation that has absolutely nothing to do with us, that's not our fault in any way." 

Jim had a hard time believing that these words were coming out of his mouth. He sounded more like Blair or Elizabeth. But he kept flashing on images of his father, snatches of their sad history playing in his head. These thoughts had been simmering inside him for a long time now. Somehow, it was just easier to get them out when he was trying to help Clare, than when he was trying to heal himself. 

"She hates what I am. My mother, I mean. She wanted this tidy, perfect little daughter who would be pretty and sweet and no trouble at all. And I'm not that. I'm never going to be that." 

" _Nobody_ is like that. It's not humanly possibly. And even if it were, it would be boring as all hell." 

"She thinks I'm a freak," Clare said, very, very softly, tears shimmering in her eyes. 

"My father thought that about me too," Jim said. 

"It's so horrible," she said, the tears spilling over. 

He took her hand and held it. "I know." 

"What did you do about?" 

"Not anything too constructive. When I got old enough, I left, and I pretty much never went back. I cut off that part of my life completely, but I can see now that I was still carrying all those old, bad feelings around with me still. It's only now after all this time with Blair that I'm finally beginning to put that shit behind me. To be honest, Clare, it's really only in the past few days, after whatever this thing is that happened to me, that I've actually _liked_ being a Sentinel, that I've allowed myself to enjoy my senses. But I do like it. It really is an amazing thing, and I finally feel lucky, instead of cursed." 

He could see she was torn, like there was something she wanted to say but was afraid to. 

"It's okay to tell me," he gently reassured her. 

"I like it," she said, haltingly. 

He smiled at her encouragingly. "That's a good thing." 

"I guess. But I always feel like I'm not _supposed_ to enjoy my senses, like there's something wrong with me if I do. You know, kind of like if you enjoyed having cancer or webbed toes or something." 

"It's not a disease or a defect. It's a special ability, like having a beautiful singing voice or being good at football. You wouldn't think there was something wrong with a music prodigy liking to play the piano, would you?" 

"Noooo," she said, mulling that over. 

"So what's so different about enjoying your heightened senses?" 

Clare's face went blank. "I guess nothing." 

"Don't let what your mother feels about your Sentinel abilities poison them for you. I'm not an especially religious person or anything, but I really do believe there's a reason why we have these senses. They're a gift. We just have to figure out how to use them to do some good." 

Clare nodded, trying to absorb that thought. "I really want to do that." 

He smiled at her and put his hand on her shoulder. "Then you will." 

She returned his smile, a little shyly. "Thanks," she whispered. 

"Any time," he said. 

"You know, I never really did tell Elena how much I like my bracelet. Maybe I should go do that." 

He nodded. "It's easy to take our Guides for granted, but it's never a good thing." 

"No," she agreed. "It's not. I don't want to do that anymore." 

"So don't," he told her, passing along the advice the spirit in his dream had given him. 

She laughed. "You've got a point there. Okay, so I'll be nicer to my Guide from now on. And Jim?" 

"Yeah?" 

"Thanks again. I mean, really, thanks." 

He patted her shoulder. "You're very welcome." 

She gave him one last shy smile and went inside. He could hear her running up the stairs, calling for Elena. He shook his head. It amazed him how much damage uptight, unthinking parents could do to their children. Clare deserved so much better, and maybe, just maybe, that meant he also had deserved more. 

He let his mind wander again, staring out over the backyard. He blinked and did a double take. The child from his hallucinations looked up at him from the back lawn, an expression of pure despair on his face. The boy started running toward the back of the property, and then he just disappeared. 

"Hey! Wait!" Jim called and raced down the back stairs after him. 

The world seemed to tilt, and suddenly he was no longer in Elizabeth's neatly manicured back yard. He was in the middle of the jungle, and he could hear the boy's choking sobs coming from up ahead. A wave of panic swept over him. He tore off after the child, in the direction of the cries, using his Sentinel hearing to track him. He ran flat out, and his heart hammered in his chest, out of control with exertion and fear. 

There were so many things that could happen to a little kid in the middle of the uncut rain forest, and they all took turns popping into his head. //Focus, Ellison. You know better than to indulge in "what if" scenarios. Keep your mind on what you're doing.// 

Ahead of him, he could see the little boy stopped and seated on an overturned stump, his head buried in his arms, sobbing hysterically. 

Jim ran up to him, out of breath and knelt by the boy's side. "What are you doing here? What's wrong? Are you hurt?" 

The child didn't look up and continued to cry. Jim put an arm around his shoulders and pulled him close. "Please, tell me what's wrong." 

"You're mad at me," the child managed to say, in between choked, heaving sobs. 

Jim was taken completely aback. "Why would I be mad at you? You helped me find Blair. You saved my life." 

The boy looked up at him with those huge blue eyes, tears shimmering on his face, his lower lip trembling. "But I can't get born. You want a kid that can get born. Both of you do." 

"Who?" 

"You and my other daddy. You're both sad because I can't get born. I'm sorry." 

"Other daddy..." 

Suddenly, the light went off in his head. //Five years old. The same amount of time I've known Blair.// For the first time, Jim took a really good look at the kid. He gasped at what he saw--Blair's beautiful eyes set in his own face, a diminutive, boyish version of it, capped with a riot of wild, dark curls, just like his lover's. 

"Oh, my God!" he said, reaching for the child, his _son_ , pulling him into his arms, holding him close, rubbing his back in comforting circles. "Please don't cry. I just didn't know. I never realized." 

"So you're not mad?" the boy asked, still snuffling, but with a glimmer of hope creeping into his voice. 

"Of course not," Jim said, holding his child tighter. "But how?" 

The boy pulled back, wriggling out of Jim's grip, so he could look his father in the face. "Love always makes more of itself. Everybody knows that, silly," the boy said, sighing dramatically, rolling his eyes. 

Jim smiled. "Forgive me for not being very bright." 

The boy giggled. 

"I still don't understand," Jim told him. 

"That's okay. You're not 'sposed to. It's just cause you were in so much trouble that I got to come see you. Usually you don't get to until you're born. They say I might get born next time, just depends. But sooner or later. Until then, I got to wait in the temple." 

"They won't let me in there," Jim said sadly. 

"Yes, they will. You just have to decide it's what you really want." 

"It is." 

"Then you know what you need to do." 

Jim looked into his son's eyes, and everything became suddenly clear. He nodded. "I love you," he whispered, surprised by the strength and certainty of the feeling. 

The boy launched himself at his father, wrapping thin little arms around his neck. "I love you too." 

A commotion in the underbrush interrupted them. The boy slid off Jim's knee. 

"I have to go now," he said. 

"Wait." 

"You know what you need to do." 

"But how will I find you..." 

"Jim! Jim! Listen to the sound of my voice. Follow me back, buddy. Come on, Jim. You're scaring me here." 

"Blair?" 

Jim looked around in confusion. He was back at Elizabeth's house, in the yard, sprawled out on the ground. 

"What happened?" Blair asked him. 

"I thought I saw...ow! Why does my head hurt?" 

"I don't know, man. I found you down here in the yard, at the bottom of the steps, unconscious. You must have fallen." 

"I remember...I was in the jungle and I was running...and then I saw him. He said..." 

"Who, Jim? What are you talking about?" 

Jim shook his head. "Um...I'm not sure anymore. I don't know what happened." 

"Did you zone?" 

"I might have. I don't know." 

"I'm going to get Elizabeth and have her take a look at you." 

He put a hand on Blair's arm. "No. I'm fine." 

"You were unconscious." 

"Really, Chief, I'm okay now. Help me up?" 

"Jim, I really think..." 

"Please." 

Blair sighed, but held out his hand. "Don't let anyone tell you you're _not_ stubborn." 

Jim broke into a smile. "You wouldn't have it any other way." 

"You mean I wouldn't recognize you any other way." 

Jim got to his feet again. He still felt a little woozy, but he didn't think he was actually injured. He just didn't quite know what to make of his strange vision, the boy...his son? //You know what you need to do.// Waves of images came flooding back to him, the jungle, the temple, the spirits. //Sentinels and Guides must be equal partners. They must bring each other completion.// 

Okay, so he didn't exactly understand the subtleties of his visions, but he did know what he needed to do, didn't he? Wasn't that the important thing? Wasn't it time to make things right with his Guide, once and for all? 

He put a hand on Blair's arm. "Chief, give me ten minutes and meet me upstairs in our room, okay?" 

"What? Are you crazy, man? I just found you nose down in the grass, completely out of it. Three days ago, you were on death's door. I think we need to spend some time on this, figure out what happened here." 

He put both hands on Blair's shoulders and looked him in the eye. "I swear we'll talk about it, Chief. I want to do it upstairs, just you and me, ten minutes, okay?" 

Blair started to protest, but Jim gently squeezed his shoulders. "Trust me. Please." 

Blair still looked unconvinced, but he said, "Okay, man. But ten minutes. That's it. And I'll expect answers, you understand me?" 

Jim bent down for a quick peck on the lips. "Yes, Chief, I understand and thanks. See you upstairs. Ten minutes. Don't be late." 

He could sense Blair watching him as he went up the stairs and into the house. He could feel waves of frustration and worry coming off his Guide. //Just hold on, Chief. A few more minutes, and we'll work this all out for good.// 

Jim stood in the kitchen, listening for Elizabeth. He heard her in the living room and followed her there. He found her curled up on the sofa, reading a book. 

"Hey, Elizabeth, can I ask you a favor?" he asked. 

"Sure, Jim. What's up?" 

"Could I borrow some candles? Those...what do you call them?...those votive ones. Do you have any of those?" 

"Sure," she said, getting up. "Let's see. I think I have some in the desk here." 

He watched her rummage around in the bottom drawer. "Oh, here they are," she said. "You can take the bag, and here you go, matches. You'll need those." 

"Thanks, Elizabeth." 

"You're welcome," she said, smiling at him. He could tell she was dying of curiosity, but he also knew she wouldn't ask. 

He took the candles upstairs to their room and shut the door. He closed the curtains, shutting out the sunlight, and turned back the covers. He lit the candles and spread them out on the dresser and bedside table, bathing the bed in soft, warm light. He undressed and folded his clothes neatly on a chair and found the massage oil Blair had bought the other day. He laid down on the bed, pulling his knees up to his chest, and poured some of the oil into his hand, slowly working his fingers into his ass, opening and lubing himself, in preparation for his lover. When he was finished, he stretched out on the bed, propping himself up on the pillows. //Now all I have to do is wait for Blair.// 

He didn't have to wait long. Blair must have been watching the second hand, because he came bursting into the room precisely on the dot. 

The look on Blair's face at finding Jim naked in the candlelight was priceless. "Wh-a-at?" he stammered. 

"Hi, Chief. What took you so long?" 

"Jim?" 

He could see the muscles in Blair's throat working as he swallowed. Jim knew his lover must think he'd really lost it or was seriously head injured. 

"Come to bed, Chief." 

Blair ran his hands through his hair. "Oh, man. We seriously need to talk." 

"Yes, we do. Come here." 

"No way, man. If I do that, the last thing I'll be doing is _talking_." 

Jim stretched languorously, showing off for his lover. "Something else on your mind?" 

"Stop teasing me, Jim. This is serious." 

"I'm not teasing you. A tease doesn't deliver, and I definitely plan on delivering." 

A tremor passed through Blair. "This is _so_ not you, man. Who are you and what have you done with the Jim Ellison I know?" 

Jim looked at him sadly. "I'm sorry," he said softly. 

Blair came a little closer. "Why?" 

"Because all I've given you up until now is the Jim Ellison who's way too rigid and an asshole on more occasions than I'd like to remember. You deserve more. You deserve everything I can give you. There is more, you know. I promise." 

"Jim, what's been happening with you?" 

"Take off your clothes and come here. I'll tell you everything you want to know." 

Blair didn't seem to know what to say to that, but he did start to unbutton his shirt. Jim propped himself up on one elbow to get a better view. He watched his lover strip off his shirt and then his undershirt, unbuckle his belt, undo his pants and slide them down his legs, taking his boxers with them, leaving it all in a tangled heap on the floor. 

"You're so beautiful," he told Blair. 

Now that Blair was naked, he could see his lover's ribs moving up and down with his breath, which was getting heavier. He could smell the dark, earthy scent of his excitement, sense Blair's pheromones surging off him in waves, surrounding him in a cloud of arousal. It sparked Jim's own responses, desire racing through him like wild fire. He was hard and ready, and so was Blair, his erection bobbing out in front of him, making Jim want him just that much more. 

"We still need to talk," Blair insisted, but his voice shook. 

"I know. I want to tell you. Come and lie beside me." 

Blair walked over to the bed smiling faintly. "It's that kind of conversation, is it?" 

Jim gazed up at him longingly. "Yes. Come here, baby." 

Blair sat down on the bed and then stretched out, laying his head next to Jim's on the pillow. 

Jim curved an arm around him and kissed him. "I love you," he said. 

Blair smiled, his face lighting up. "I love you too. Now tell me what's going on." 

Jim brushed the hair back from Blair's face and stroked along his hairline. "Okay," he said and kissed his Guide again, passionately. 

Blair returned the kiss, eagerly, stroking the curve of Jim's hip in loving circles. "So this is the idea, huh? Talk a little, kiss a little." 

"Mmmm." His hands lingered on Blair's chest, relishing the feel of the soft hair and warm skin. "I _do_ want to try to tell you what happened." 

"Outside just now?" Blair asked, looking intently into his face. 

He nodded. "Yes and the dream I had the other day and everything that's been going on." 

"So tell me." 

He pulled Blair closer. "I'm not sure how..." 

Blair brushed his lips lightly across Jim's. "How about start with the dream?" 

Jim nodded and paused for a moment, trying to pull his thoughts together, to figure out how to describe something so mysterious and confusing. "I was in the jungle, and something was calling me. I kept following it, and I found it, the temple, the Temple of the Jaguars. I can't tell you what that felt like. It was just the most amazing thing. I was finally home, like I never was before." 

Blair stroked his arm and looked at him intently, following every word, his bright blue eyes filled with curiosity. "That's so wonderful, Jim. It sounds like a very moving experience." 

Jim nodded. "It was. It really was. All I wanted was to go inside. I had this really strong feeling that something very important was in there. So I walked up to the door, and I turned the handle. But the door wouldn't open. I did everything I could. I beat on it and tried to force it. I screamed for whoever was inside to let me in. But none of it worked. They just weren't going to let me go inside." 

Blair frowned. "Maybe it wasn't time yet." 

"No, Chief. I'm not allowed in. After I gave up on the door, these three, well I don't really know what they were, presences I guess you could call them, showed up, and they told me that I'm not complete as a Sentinel. That's why I can't enter the temple. I haven't earned the right." 

"I don't understand," Blair said. "You accepted your Sentinel senses. You made the commitment." 

"They said I'm holding back something from my Guide, that there's something I won't give you, that I've made you unable even to ask me for. That's what's been unbalancing our relationship. At first, I argued. It seriously pissed me off, what they were saying. But when I was really honest with myself, I had to admit that it's true." 

"Jim, are we talking about your not letting me make love to you?" 

"In part." 

Blair stroked his shoulder comfortingly. "I just always assumed it bothered you, and that's why you never offered. I didn't want to push. That's why I didn't ask." 

"It wasn't a problem for you that I wouldn't give you that?" he asked. 

Blair wouldn't meet his eyes. 

"You can tell me," Jim reassured him. 

"I can't say that it never, ever bugged me. I just don't want it to sound like some kind of quid pro quo thing, like you were supposed to let me make love to you because I'd let you do it to me. Because that's not it. I just always kind of hoped that you'd trust me enough to give yourself to me, that you'd _want_ to." 

"So why didn't you ever tell me?" 

"It's a sensitive kind of thing. I mean, it's not for everyone. For a lot of guys, it makes them feel...I don't know, like less of a man somehow, and I didn't want to put any pressure on you to do something that was going to seriously mess with your head or damage your sense of self." 

Jim frowned and felt a cold knot of worry uncurl in the pit of his stomach. "Is that how it makes you feel, Blair? Like less of a man." 

'No," Blair hastily reassured him. "But you know, man, we don't exactly...er, feel the same way about things." 

"You mean I'm more hung up than you are." 

"I wouldn't put it that way." 

"But it's what you meant." 

"Please don't get angry with me. I don't want to spoil this moment. I don't want us to stop talking now that we're both being so honest." 

Jim took a deep breath and calmed himself down, realizing that he wasn't being fair to his partner. Blair had only been working with the evidence he'd given him. If he hadn't gotten things exactly right, it was because Jim had withheld important facts about his past, about who he really was, things he'd been unwilling to admit even to himself. 

"No, I'm sorry, Chief. I shouldn't get angry with you for being honest about how you feel, especially when you're right. I am hung up, but not exactly the way you think." 

Blair looked distinctly confused. 

"I don't know how to say this. Ah, hell Chief, I haven't exactly...I'm not a virgin, you know, with guys." 

"What?" Blair asked, his voice filled with disbelief and something Jim was pretty sure sounded like the beginning of fury. 

"I've had sex that way before." 

"I understand what 'not a virgin' means, Jim. I'm just having a little trouble processing the fact that you were willing to lay down for other guys, but not for me." 

"I'm sorry. I should have told you. I shouldn't have let you believe that it disgusted me or whatever. Please, don't be angry." 

"I'm not." 

"No, you're hurt. That's worse." 

"How am I supposed to feel? For two years, I've just assumed that this was something you couldn't give me because it would feel unmanly to you, and I was willing to honor that, to not push you to do something you couldn't. But now I find out it was just me you weren't willing to give yourself to, and I don't know what to do with that. What? Am I not man enough for you? You couldn't let some _wimp_ fuck you, is that it, Jim?" 

"Please, don't do that, Chief. Don't say that. You know it's not true. This is about me, about _my_ hang ups. It's nothing against you. You know I don't think you're a wimp." 

"How many?" 

"What?" 

"How many guys have you let fuck you?" 

"I don't know, Sandburg." 

"Oh, yeah, now I'm _Sandburg_. That's just great, man." 

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean it." 

"Yes, you did. You didn't like my question, you didn't want to answer it, so you pushed me away." 

Jim sighed heavily and counted to ten. "You're right. I'm sorry. I don't know how many. It was a pretty long time ago, in the army mostly, and a few when I was in Vice." 

"So what? 10? 20?" 

"Somewhere in there." 

"But definitely double digits?" 

"Most likely." 

"Jesus, Jim, that's hardly hung up." 

"It's not the act that's the problem for me. When the spirits asked me what I was afraid of, what I was too scared to give you, I tried to tell them it was about sex, but they told me I was full of shit. And they were right." 

"What then?" 

"It's hard to...the spirits said letting you make love to me is symbolic for what I'm really afraid to give you. That's why I could let the others...well, you know, and I couldn't let you. I never loved any of them. With them, it _was_ fucking, and I guess that was easier for me. Before us, I never had to revise my concept of myself. I never felt gay." 

"And now?" 

"Now, I'm in love with you. Now, I feel safe enough to be who I really am, who I _always_ was. I used to be so terrified of admitting that I'm just more comfortable with men than women, that other guys, well, that's where my real interest is. But not anymore. I'm not afraid of being with you because you're a man, Chief. I'm not afraid of being gay." 

Blair just stared at him. "Jesus, Jim, sometimes you shock the hell out of me. There I am thinking I have you all figured out, but really I don't have the faintest clue. Okay, so if it's not the gay thing or the sex thing, what is it? What are you afraid to give me?" 

Jim's mouth went dry and he could not remember feeling more terrified. But he had to do it. They would never have any peace until he took this step, until he came completely clean with his Guide. He opened his mouth, and the words somehow just tumbled out of him. "It's about giving myself to you completely, really and truly, all of it, nothing held back, no secrets, no omissions, the whole truth and nothing but. It scares the shit out of me. Please don't leave. I know you're angry. I know I hurt you. But please don't leave." 

Blair took Jim's hand in his own. "I'm not going to leave you. Breathe, Jim. I can't lie and say I'm not still hurt that you've done stuff with other guys that you wouldn't do with me. Hell, I can't say I'm not a little upset and jealous that there have even _been_ other guys. I am. I can't help it. I still don't understand all this, but I'm trying. I _want_ to understand. I just need you to explain it to me, so I really get it." 

Jim sighed and closed his eyes, trying to figure out how he could make his lover understand. "The other day I was sitting out on the terrace trying to figure out this weird shit that's been going on, and it struck me that you're the first person who's ever really known me. I'm almost forty years old, and this is the first time in my life that I'm not pretending about who I am. It's been so amazing, and I'm so grateful. But it's still just...I'm afraid." 

"Why?" 

"I don't want to lose you." 

"You're not going to lose me. Why would you lose me?" 

"If I really give myself to you, if you have everything I am, you'll know." 

"Yes, I'll _really_ know you. What could be wrong with that?" 

"Because you'll know that I'm not good enough for you, that I don't deserve you." 

"That's silly, Jim. I love you. I chose you. I'm your Guide. I was meant for you." 

Jim clung to Blair's hand. He desperately wanted to believe him, but the nagging, doubting part of him would not be convinced. 

"Whose voice is it that says you're not good enough?" Blair asked him. 

"What?" 

"Who's voice? In your head, who is it telling you that you're not good enough? Is it mine?" 

Jim shook his head. "No, baby, never you." 

"Is it yours?" 

"I don't..." 

"Does it sound like you?" 

He shook his head again. 

"So who said those things, that you're not good enough, that you don't deserve things, that if anyone really knew you they'd leave? Who told you those things?" 

Jim closed his eyes and concentrated. Fragmented images formed in his head. An angry face materialized in his mind's eye. He watched as the angry presence grabbed his arm and told him never to let anyone know what a freak he was or they'd put him away somewhere and no one would ever want anything to do with him again. He watched as the angry presence ridiculed his grades, his performance on the football team, forbade him to hang out with the boy down the block whom everyone called a sissy, telling him that faggots always got what was coming to them. No matter how hard he tried to be perfect, there was always some flaw, some shortcoming, something that the angry face would pick out and demean. He could see himself as a boy, trying so hard and always failing, learning to put up a wall to protect himself, always holding something back, some little piece of himself that was his and his alone, so that there would be some part of him that wasn't judged, criticized, found wanting. 

"It was my father," he said shakily. 

Blair nodded, stroking Jim's arm, trying to help guide him through this painful discovery. 

"He said I couldn't let anyone know the truth about me or they'd think there was something wrong with me." 

"He was wrong, Jim." 

Jim's shoulders shook. 

"He was very, very wrong," Blair said, pulling his partner closer. "I know you better than anyone else ever has, and I love you very, very much. Not that you don't still surprise me sometimes. I mean, that thing about sleeping with other guys came as one hell of a shock. But I'm still here, aren't I?" 

"Yeah, you're still here, Chief." 

"And I'm never, ever going to leave. I mean, where would I go? What would I do without you? You are my _life_. We are each other's lives. That's just the way it is between Sentinels and Guides. Let go of your father's voice and put my voice in its place. You're a _wonderful_ man, Jim--strong and brave and kind. You deserve all the good things in life. You can let me in all the way. I'm not going to see anything I don't like. Nothing's going to drive me away." 

"I'm sorry, for hurting you, for all of it." 

Blair stroked his face with his fingers. "I know. It's okay. It's not your fault. Ideas like that sink into us when we're children, so that we don't even know they're there anymore. But we still react to them just the same. I'm just glad you figured it out now, so you don't have to keep acting out on them unconsciously, in a way that you don't want to." 

"How could he do that, Blair?" Jim asked, his voice shaking, finally asking the question that had been screaming inside him since he was a very young boy. 

Blair shook his head, stroking Jim's arm. "I don't know. I really don't," he said, quietly. "But you need to believe that you never deserved it, not any of it." 

"Earlier today, I was talking to Clare, and she wanted to know how you can ever love yourself when your own parents don't love you." 

"And what did you tell her?" 

"That I understood." 

"You've felt that way a long time, haven't you, Jim?" 

"I've been so afraid to tell you so many things," he said, his voice nearly inaudible. 

Blair caressed Jim's chest, soothing him. "I can understand why you would be if every time you expressed anything about yourself to your father you were punished for it. It's conditioned response, man, and your father was a cruel teacher." 

"I could never tell him anything, and finally I stopped trying. I just got silent. It seemed..." 

"Safer?" 

"Yeah." 

Blair looked him deeply in the eyes, lovingly, compassionately. "That was all _so_ wrong, Jim. It never should have happened. Who you are is a beautiful thing. When you share yourself with me, it's the most precious gift I could ever receive. No matter how angry I ever get at you or how hurt, all the stuff that just happens in relationships, I accept and honor all of you, without exception or question. You never need to hold anything back from me. Do you understand?" 

Jim nodded. 

"Do you believe me?" 

The part of him that was habitually clenched out of self-preservation balked for a moment. He wasn't at all sure why Blair's offer of unconditional acceptance terrified him, but it did. But he looked into his lover's face and saw nothing but kindness, nothing but bright affection, tender concern, Blair's wonderful openness, the shadowless truth. 

"I believe you," he finally said. 

Blair smiled. "Good. Look, Jim, I know it's not possible to let go of a lifetime's experience in one day. I don't expect that. But I really meant it when I said I never want to see you struggling alone. You don't deserve that. No one does. I'm here for you, whenever you need me, just the way you're always there for me." 

"Thank you," Jim said, reaching out to lightly brush Blair's face with his fingertips. 

Blair caught his hand and kissed his palm. "It's my pleasure." 

"I'm ready now," Jim told him. 

"For what?" 

"To give myself to you without reserve. That's what the spirits said I needed to do. It's what I want to do." 

"You're sure? Because we don't have to do this right now. I can wait. I don't want to rush you." 

Jim nodded and leaned in to kiss his partner. "Make love to me. Please." 

He could hear his lover's heart rate accelerate and smell the rush of his arousal. "Oh yes, Jim. Yes. If it's what you want. I want you so much. Turn over for me, lover," he said, urging Jim onto his side. 

"I want to see you." 

Blair pressed a kiss to his temple. "You can look at me over your shoulder. Don't worry. I'm going to kiss you and talk to you while I make love to you. I'm going to fill you--your body, your senses, all of you. I know what you need, Jim, and I'm gonna take good care of you. I'm not going to do anything you don't want, that doesn't feel right. Just trust me, okay?" 

Jim smiled at him. "I can do that." 

Blair curled up behind him, propped up on one elbow, so he could lean over him. His Guide ran a hand down his chest, across his belly, following the line of hair down to his cock. He rubbed his erection against Jim's backside, as he stroked Jim's cock and gently teased his balls, whispering in his ear all the silly, sexy, sweet, obscene things that turned Jim on so much. Jim groaned out loud at the feeling of his lover's hard cock rubbing intimately between his ass cheeks, an arousing prelude to what would soon follow. 

"Please, Blair. I need you inside me now." He could feel the puffs of Blair's excited breath against the side of his face. 

"I need to get you ready first, love." 

Jim shook his head. "I did it already, while I was waiting for you. I'm ready. Take me, Blair." He looked back over his shoulder at his lover, to show him that he really was ready for him. 

Jim nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt Blair's fingers travel along his cleft, stroking between his cheeks. 

"I'm not going to hurry this," Blair told him. "I want it to be good." 

Blair leaned in for another kiss, and Jim's senses erupted with pleasure. This kiss tasted like fulfillment, long awaited, hard fought for, perfect--worth the fear and old pain he'd been forced to confront in order to get there. Blair's fingers brushed his opening, very briefly, teasing, flirting. It was still nearly more than Jim's peaked senses could handle. 

"Don't dial it up too far," Blair warned him. 

"I want to feel it all." 

Blair smiled at him wickedly. "Oh you will, Jim. I promise. You will." 

Jim dialed down his touch very slightly, and Blair returned to his play, circling his entrance, caressing him. Jim could feel himself opening up even more for his lover, his body so very eager to be claimed. Blair pressed in one finger, and he groaned out loud. 

"Oh my God," he said. 

It felt so different to have Blair's fingers inside him than it had his own. Every nerve ending in his body tingled with sensual thrill, erotic longing, demanding more. 

"Please," he begged. 

Blair added a second finger, stroking and caressing him intimately. "God, Jim, do you know how amazing you are? How beautiful? Do you know what it does to me to touch you like this? To feel you so hot and slick and ready, to know that you did that to yourself, so you could give yourself to me. God, I want you so much." 

"Want you too, Chief," he managed to say, panting heavily. "Take me." 

Blair kissed him deeply. "I love you," he said and entered him in one smooth stroke. 

It took Jim's breath away; it dizzied him, the feeling of Blair inside him, a physical part of him, as he'd long been a part of his soul. It had felt good with those other men, but had been nothing like this. Blair wasn't just filling him. He was making him exquisitely whole, something he'd never felt before, never even close. 

Jim closed his eyes tightly, and colors exploded behind his eyes. The cosmos swirled away from him. The ground fell out from beneath him, and he was freefalling. He grabbed for Blair's hand and gripped it tightly. When the spinning stopped, he opened his eyes and was standing once again outside the temple door, only this time his Guide was by his side. 

"Did I pass out?" he asked Blair. 

Blair's face was filled with confusion and amazement. "If you did, then I did too. Which is possible, I guess. I've never felt anything so incredible, man, as being inside you." 

Jim smiled tenderly at his Guide. 

"When there is nothing you are afraid to give, there will be nothing you cannot gain," a voice said behind them, causing them both to start and whirl around. 

It was the Clare spirit. 

"Oh wow, man, is this what you were dreaming?" Blair asked. 

Jim nodded. 

"It's time now," the spirit told them. 

"To go inside?" Jim asked. 

She nodded and motioned toward the doors. "Try it again." 

Jim looked from the spirit to his Guide, who nodded, encouraging him. He walked the few steps to the door, slowly, with great seriousness. He reached his hand slowly toward the knob and turned. This time, it moved easily in his hand, the door opening without difficulty, as if by magic. 

He smiled at both his Guide and the spirit. "It worked!" 

Blair returned his smile. "That's great, man!" 

"You have learned the lesson and taught it to another, as well. You have more than earned the right to pass into the temple. Welcome home," the spirit said and turned, disappearing once more into the jungle. 

Blair stood very close to him, holding his hand. "Let's go inside," he said. 

Jim hesitated. 

"It's okay," Blair assured him. "Come on." 

He let Blair lead him through the door. He followed his Guide inside, and then everything stopped. He was overwhelmed by the hushed stillness, his chest expanding with a sense of awe. The interior of the temple was simple, bare walls and floors, smooth and white as ivory, timeless, still, perfect. It sang to him. It filled him with a perfect feeling of belonging. //Home. Home.// 

"It's so beautiful," he said to Blair, in a shaky voice. 

Blair nodded. "Yes, it is." 

He watched his Guide. "You've been here before?" 

"Yes. The first time when I was...well, before I regained consciousness after you pulled me out of the fountain. I didn't remember it though until I went back the second time. That was the first night we made love. Since then, I've kept coming back pretty regularly." 

Jim nodded. "Why do you think we came here together this time?" 

"I don't know. Maybe it's a sign that whatever was wrong between us is healed now. Or maybe there's something else..." 

"Daddy!" a familiar voice squealed and the child came running to him, from the depths of the temple. 

Jim caught him in his arms, twirled him around and hugged him. "Hey, did you miss me?" 

The boy nodded earnestly. 

"Daddy?" Blair asked, staring at them, a look of both confusion and disbelief on his face. "Um...Jim, is there something else you forgot to tell me?" 

"Yes. We have a son." 

" _We_ do?" 

"Yes." 

"A son?" 

"Mmm-hmm." 

"I don't get it." 

"Love always makes more of itself," Jim told his lover, his voice deep and husky. 

Jim watched Blair taking in that information, staring at him and the boy, his eyes going back and forth from one face to the other. Jim put the child down, and the boy shyly approached Blair, who knelt down so they'd be on eye level with each other. 

"My other daddy's not mad I can't get born. Are you?" 

Blair stared at him, and finally shook his head. "No, of course not." He touched a curly dark strand of the boy's hair, lightly, reverently. "How could I be mad at you? You're a miracle." 

The boy's face filled with pleasure. Blair gathered him up in his arms, stroking and kissing his hair. "I love you," he told his son. 

"I love you too, Daddy. But you have to go now. You're not finished yet." 

"I don't want to let you go." 

"I'll be here." 

"What's your name?" Blair thought to ask. 

The boy grinned at him. "You haven't given me one yet." 

Blair squeezed his shoulders, rubbed his arms, couldn't stop touching him. "We'll have to take care of that." 

Their son nodded. "When you come back." 

Blair frowned. "How do you know..." 

The boy pulled out of his arms. "This is home. You'll always come here." 

Jim and Blair both watched the boy step back, and the temple dissolved around them. They were in bed once more in Elizabeth's guest room, Blair buried deep inside Jim's body. "Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God," Blair kept saying. 

Jim began moving, pushing down on Blair's erection and pulling up. "Come on, baby. Make love to me. I need you to move. Please." 

Blair's breath came in short, excited pants, as he began thrusting in and out of his lover's body. "My God, Jim. Was it real?" 

Jim nodded, unable to speak as Blair found his prostate and began working it with short, shallow strokes. "So good, Blair. Oh God, so good." 

"I want to love you so long and hard and sweet that you'll never forget it," Blair said, beginning to pound him harder. "God, Jim, look what we made together. So good. So beautiful. Gonna make more love. Gonna make more miracles." 

"More," Jim agreed mindlessly, beyond conversation, beyond rational thought. 

Blair reached across Jim's body to stroke his cock and fondle his balls. Jim, who hardly ever screamed during sex, wailed like a banshee in heat. "Oh God, I love you, Blair." 

"I know, baby. I love you too. Love you so much." 

"Fuck me harder. Take me." 

"Yes! Yes!" 

"So good." 

"I'm taking all of you, lover." 

"Oh, yeah. Yeah. Take it. Please." 

"Say it." 

Blair sucked Jim's neck hard and bit down. "Say it, lover. Tell me." 

"I'm yours. God, Blair, yours, yours, all yours." 

"Mine," Blair said, biting down hard on Jim's shoulder, claiming his lover, his voice the growl of a wolf in the throes of mating. 

Jim made a deep keening sound in the back of his throat, the panther lying down for its mate, Sentinel submitting to Guide. Jim could feel Blair's trembling, his muscles losing control, so close now. Blair began to stroke his cock more urgently, and Jim could feel his release gathering its forces, sending him over the edge, into mind-shattering orgasm. 

At the height of ecstasy, Jim understood at last what it meant to be tamed by love. This was how it was always meant to be: Sentinel giving up control to the Guide, the Guide losing himself to his Sentinel, the way it had been since the beginning of time, so that neither would lead and neither would follow, so they would be true partners, walking alongside one another, neither in the other's shadow. 

So that they would complete one another, now and forever, the way it was always intended. 

* * *

Elizabeth looked up from the insurance form she was filling out and found Blair hovering in the doorway. 

"Hey," she said, smiling at the unmistakable glow coming off him. "How's it going?" 

"Great!" he said, smiling back at her, goofy with happiness. "It's going really, really well." 

"I'm glad to hear it." 

It had been two days since Jim had asked to borrow the candles, and something important had definitely happened between the two of them, something beyond mind-blowing sex, which she suspected had also occurred. Some subtle shift had taken place. There was an even greater connection between them, a new sense of solidity, an even stronger partnership. She should have suspected. The vagaries of Sentinel senses were never accidents. However bizarre the problems were, they always led to some greater understanding, an improved ability to carry out the responsibilities of Sentinel and Guide. She had never seen Jim and Blair look happier or seem stronger together. 

"I just wanted to thank you for everything," Blair said. 

Elizabeth shook her head. "I had absolutely nothing to do with it. You and Jim did all the work. I'm just happy to see the results." 

"You should never underestimate what you do for other Sentinels and Guides. You gave us a safe, protected place and the help we needed to figure things out. I'm really grateful." 

"It was my pleasure. After all that you and Jim have done for us, it's nice to be able to repay you. Plus, it's just been fun having you around. I'm going to miss you." 

Blair nodded. "Yeah, me too. It feels like family, being here, with so many Sentinels and Guides around." 

"That's how it always seems to me too. I feel lucky to have this experience." 

"As much as I hate to go, I'm afraid Jim and I both need to head back to Cascade. Simon's been really understanding about all this, but you've met him. He's not exactly made of patience." 

Elizabeth grinned, remembering the gruff police captain struggling to deal with all the Sentinel craziness. "I understand. I'm sure you guys are anxious to get back to your normal lives," she said. 

Jim materialized in the doorway, winding an arm around Blair's waist. "There you are," he said to his partner. "I've been looking for you. I was able to get us two seats on the last flight out to Cascade tonight." 

"That's great, babe. I was just thanking Elizabeth for helping us out." 

"Yeah, I wanted to thank you too. I'm sorry we just kind of descended on you with all our problems, but I really appreciate your helping us get a handle on it." 

"I told Blair before that I really had nothing to do with it. I mean, it seems I was totally off base about the cause of the...er, difficulty." 

Jim blushed slightly, and Elizabeth knew he was remembering all the intimate details he'd shared with her about his sex life, probably regretting it. "You and Sam both got me thinking. I don't think I would have figured it out without your prompting. Or it would have taken a lot longer. Thank you for being such a good friend." 

"I've been so glad to have you guys around. My daughter just loves you both, and I can't tell you how much that means to a mother. And the whole Clare and Elena situation is greatly improved. I definitely owe you one for that. I don't know how you guys did it." 

"We didn't do anything," Jim and Blair both said at the same time and then they laughed. 

"Well, I think we can definitely see that the proper Sentinel/Guide harmony has been restored," Elizabeth teased them. "And whether you know it or not, you did a lot for Clare and Elena. They're opening up to each other in a way they never have before. They still have a long way to go, but they don't seem to hate one another anymore. That's progress." 

"They're good kids," Jim said. 

"Yeah," Blair agreed. "They're gonna be fine. They just need to grow into the whole thing. It'll happen in its own good time." 

"I was hoping..." 

"What?" Blair asked. 

"Are you guys packed? Do you have a minute?" Elizabeth asked, a little hesitantly. She had been planning to write and ask them this, but now that they were here, it seemed like the perfect opportunity. 

"Jim?" Blair asked. 

"The flight's not until eight. We've got plenty of time." 

"Please," Elizabeth said, motioning them toward the chairs in front of her desk, and they both sat down. "Since Carla was born, Sam and I have been trying to decide who to ask to be her guardian in case something happens to us. We've talked about it a lot. Okay, so actually we've fought like crazy people about it. We've considered various family members. We've gone back and forth on it. We've just never been able to agree. I have to admit that _I_ keep changing my mind. I'm driving Sam nuts, although he's trying to be patient about it. I just...there's no one I've felt really comfortable with to raise my daughter. There's no one I trust to understand Carla's special needs as a young Sentinel and to be able to help her." 

"I can understand that," Blair said. "I mean, from what you said, your parents were happier ignoring your Sentinel senses and even to let you pretend you were never kidnapped as a child. I can see why you wouldn't want that for your own daughter." 

Jim nodded. "There's nothing worse, except being out-and-out labeled a freak. 

Elizabeth watched Blair reach for his hand, and she knew Jim was speaking from personal experience. That only further bolstered her decision. Deep inside her, she knew she'd made the right choice, and she hoped they'd agree with her. 

"I wasn't exaggerating before when I said how much you've done for Clare and Elena. Sam and I have both marveled over it. I mean, neither of us could get Clare to say more than three words to us at a time, and she seeks you out to talk, Jim. It's _really_ amazing." 

Jim grinned. "Well, we're definitely alike, Clare and me. Stubborn, impossible, bad tempered." 

"Don't forget grouchy, inflexible, defensive..." Blair added. 

"Hey!" Jim protested in mock seriousness, elbowing his Guide playfully. 

"Just helping you out, big guy." 

"Well thanks, but you can stop helping me now, Darwin," Jim said, sounding serious, but Elizabeth could see from the light in his eye that he was actually playing. 

Blair arched an eyebrow at him and smiled. "No problem. It's always a pleasure to lend a hand." 

Jim rolled his eyes at his lover. "Anyway, Clare and I understand each other. That makes it easier for me to help her." 

"She's a very good person, beneath all her hurt. Now that she and Elena are beginning to bond, hopefully some of that hurt will start to heal," Blair said. 

Elizabeth leaned forward, elbows on the desk, hands under her chin. "I think you're right, and the two of you have been instrumental in making that happen. It's not just coincidence. There's a lot more to it than that. You guys have a real calling. I've seen it in the way you relate to Carla, as well as to Elena and Clare. I truly believe you have a place working with the children of the tribe, a natural facility for helping born Sentinels and their Guides deal with their special challenges. It's your role in the tribe, like mine is to help newly formed Sentinels, those who gain their abilities later in life, manage their senses until they find their Guides. The two of you have a lot to give, a lot of compassion and understanding, as well as valuable knowledge about Sentinels and technical skills in using the senses. I think you're meant to be teachers. The young of our tribe could learn a lot from you. Sam and I would love you to be a part of our daughter's life. In fact, we'd like to ask you to be Carla's guardians in the event that something happens to us." 

She watched the full impact of her words and her request register on both their faces. They were extremely surprised, which she had, of course, expected. They were also hesitant, uncertain, even a little fearful, but not outright opposed to the idea. She felt both relieved and encouraged. 

"I know I laid a lot of heavy stuff on you," she said. 

"You're not kidding," Blair said. 

"I'm _really_ honored, Elizabeth, but shouldn't it be a member of your family?" Jim asked. 

Elizabeth nodded. "Yes, but Sam and I realized we'd been thinking about family in the wrong sense. That's why we could never come to any kind of agreement. It's not our family of origin, but our Sentinel family we want to entrust our daughter to. When we started talking about you guys as possible guardians, that's the first time it felt right, to both of us." 

"Wow," Blair said, looking stunned. 

"Yeah," Jim agreed. 

Elizabeth held up a hand. "I know. It's too much to take in at once. I know you'll need some time to think about it. I don't want to push you. If it's not something you can agree to, we completely understand, no hard feelings. We'd just feel really comfortable putting the two of you in our will, so I had to ask. No pressure, I swear. I just hope you'll think it over." 

Jim and Blair turned to look at each other, and she knew there was communication in that exchanged glance. 

"We'll definitely give it a lot of serious thought, Elizabeth. Like you said, it is a big responsibility. We wouldn't want to take it on lightly. But we really are extremely honored that you'd think of us. We know how important this is, and it touches us that you'd think we were the best people for the job. Thank you," Blair said, his face solemn and kind. 

"Your and Sam's friendship means a lot to us, and we care about your daughter. We just need some time to think it over," Jim added. 

She smiled at them. "Please, take all the time you need. I really appreciate your considering it. And like I said, if the answer's no, we'll completely understand. But I have to admit, I hope it's yes." 

Marta appeared in the doorway. "Dr. Knowlton?" she said tentatively, not wanting to interrupt. 

"Yes, Marta." 

"I'm sorry to bother you, but there's a package for you just delivered. It's marked urgent." 

Elizabeth arched an eyebrow. "I wasn't expecting anything," she said, taking the flat manila envelope from her housekeeper. "Thanks, Marta." 

"You're welcome, Dr. Knowlton," she said, on her way out, returning to the kitchen. 

Elizabeth took the letter opener out of the desk drawer, sliding it along the flap of the envelope. "Sorry, you guys. Let me just see what this is. Sometimes I get parole board documents sent over here that need an immediate signature." 

She slid out a single sheet of paper, typed, with a short note. She began to read, and everything stopped: her heart, her breathing, time itself. Her vision darkened around the edges, and she felt like she was sliding into a nightmare, populated with ghosts from the past, angry, vengeful ghosts that would not rest. 

In a single second, her entire sense of her life altered. Every ounce of security that she'd managed to rebuild since the horror of the warehouse disappeared in an instant. All her confidence in the future shattered. //Danger! Danger!// That panicked thought formed a feedback loop in her head. The dead hadn't stayed dead. The battle she thought she'd won was beginning all over again. Her most dangerous adversary had returned. There was no way she could protect her family, defend herself, keep the other Sentinels and Guides safe. 

//Oh, my God! She's back.// 

It took a while, although she could not tell exactly how long, for the sensation of hands shaking her to register in her panic-fogged brain. Then she could hear words. "Come on, Beth. It's okay, honey. Come back to me. Please, sweetheart, whatever it is, you have to tell me. Come on." 

It was Sam's voice, leading her back. Jim and Blair must have gone to get him when she zoned. 

"I'm okay," she said, shakily, not at all certain it was true. 

"What happened?" her husband asked. 

She frowned, concentrating, exerting her will, pulling herself back together. She still felt disoriented. It must have been a bad zone. Sam was kneeling by her chair, his hand on her arm, and Blair was standing on the other side of her, watching her with concern. She could tell Jim had his Sentinel senses trained on her, monitoring her vital signs, aware of her agitation. 

"The letter," she said. 

"I should have just disposed of you when I had the opportunity. You were never very cooperative. But at least now I'll get the chance to finish what I started. Come to Pier 17 at 2:00 this afternoon. Come alone or the others will suffer. You know what I mean," Jim read aloud. "Well, it's obviously a threat. Do you have any idea who might have sent it?" he asked, slipping into detective mode. 

Elizabeth nodded, the cold fear taking her over. "Yes," she managed to say. "Alex Barnes." 

She watched her words reverberate through all three men. She felt Blair freeze beside her. Sam stared up at her, disbelievingly. Jim clenched his jaw, and his eyes grew hard and opaque. 

"She's dead, sweetheart," Sam assured her. 

She shook her head. "No." 

"But we saw her go over the side of the ravine that day," Jim argued. 

"They never recovered the body," Blair said, his voice dull and expressionless from shock. 

Jim went to him and put an arm around his shoulder. "You know how it is up in the mountains, Chief. There are flash floods in those gullies all the time. By the time we finished getting all the Sentinels out of the warehouse and came back for the body, a torrent of water was rushing down that ravine. It washed away the body." 

"That's what we thought. Maybe we were wrong," Blair said, shivering, and Jim pulled him closer. 

"She sent me this," Elizabeth, picking up the sheet of paper. 

"What makes you say that?" Sam asked gently, trying to understand. 

"It has things in it only Alex would know, that I never told anyone else. When we were alone in the clearing, just before Jim got there, she said things to me. They're in here, word for word." 

"Someone else could have..." Sam began to suggest. 

"No!" Elizabeth said, clutching his arm. "There is no one else. I never told anyone what she said, not Jim or Blair, not the police, not even you. I've never told a _soul_. I've never written it down anywhere. I've never communicated it in any way. The only two people who could possibly know are me and Alex." 

"Maybe it's just a coincidence," Sam said, throwing out one last ditch possibility. 

"There's not that much coincidence in the world. There are three sentences in there that are word-for-word what she said to me. She's back, and she's coming after us again. I have to stop her this time. I can't let anything happen to the other Sentinels, not like last time. I have to protect my tribe." 

Sam rubbed her arm. "I know you're upset, but please try to calm down, Beth. We need to think it over and decide on the best way to handle this." 

"Sam's right," Jim said. "Whoever this is, we have to deal with them." 

Elizabeth shook her head. "There's nothing to decide. She wants me to meet her down at the pier, and I'm going." 

"No way!" Sam said passionately. 

"It's not a good idea, Elizabeth," Jim said. 

"It's my responsibility. Because of me, she was able to hurt us. Because of me, two Sentinels died." 

"It wasn't your fault," Blair said softly. 

"Even if it wasn't, I can't let it happen again. It would kill me," she said. "I have to do what she says. I have to meet her." 

Jim nodded. "All right, but you're not going alone." 

"But it says..." 

"Trust me on this, Elizabeth. You need help. If it's Alex Barnes, it's going to take both of us to take her down, just like it did last time." 

"You're not leaving me out of this," Blair said. 

"Chief--" 

Blair set his jaw. "No way, man. That bitch _drowned_ me. She hit me on the head and held me under the water until I was _dead_. If she's still alive, I need to be there. I need to be part of this. Otherwise, I'll never have another moment's peace." 

"And there's no way you're going without me. I wasn't with you the last time you needed me, and I'll be damned if I'm not there this time," Sam said. 

"Sam, I don't want..." 

"In this one and only instance, I don't care what you want, Beth. You're not walking into danger, not meeting up with the woman who almost destroyed you without me there by your side. It's just not going to happen, so there's no point in arguing about it." 

Elizabeth and Jim exchanged glances, understanding there was nothing they could to do to budge their Guides. "All right," Jim said. "We all go then. But we need to formulate a strategy and make sure we all know what we're doing. If it is Alex Barnes, there's no predicting what she'll do. As crazy as she is, she's still a Sentinel, and we won't have any advantage over her." 

"Do you have a plan, Jim?" Sam asked. 

Jim frowned, looking thoughtful. "Yeah. Gather around. I'll lay it out." 

"Let's do it, big guy," Blair said, moving to Jim's side. 

"I know the area," Elizabeth volunteered. "I can draw you a map." 

"Great," Jim said, pushing a piece of paper and a pen toward her. 

She quickly roughed in a sketch of the pier and the surrounding vicinity. 

"Okay, everybody, listen up," Jim said, taking Elizabeth's hand-drawn map, marking it up, showing them all where they'd be. 

They all followed along carefully, taking in every detail, memorizing the plan that would once again pit them against their worst nightmare. 

Continued in part five.


	5. Chapter 5

Due to the length of this story, it has been split into five parts.

## Progeny

by Annabelle Leigh

Continued from part four.

* * *

Progeny - part five  


She watched them race out of the house and climb into Dr. Knowlton's car. It was so very easy. There were all so wonderfully predictable with their ferocious need to protect the tribe. Dr. Knowlton, especially, was so easy to manipulate with her unending guilt over the lost Sentinels and her terrible fear of the aberrant ones. In their panic, they had not considered what, or who, they were leaving unguarded. Her young Sentinel was inside, and soon she would have her for her very own. 

There was only one person left standing in her way, only one serious impediment, the housekeeper, and she would be easy to distract. She had followed the woman home one night. She had spied on her for several days, and she knew this woman's vulnerabilities, as well as she knew the doctor's. It would only take a quick phone call. 

She dialed the number and waited for an answer. "Good afternoon, Knowlton-Crawford residence," the housekeeper said in her accented English. 

"May I please speak with Senora Marta Alvarez?" 

"Speaking. How may I help you?" 

"Ma'am, I'm calling from San Francisco General Hospital. Your grandson has been admitted with a broken arm and a rather serious concussion from an accident on the playground at his school. We were unable to reach his mother, and you're the next person listed on the emergency form." 

"Madre de Dios! How is Roberto? Is he all right?" 

"He's stable for the time being, but we need you to come down and fill out consent forms, in case we need to prescribe further medical treatment." 

"I have a baby here to watch. Her parents just went out. I don't know when they'll come back. I guess I could bring her with me." 

"No, ma'am, I wouldn't advise that. We're dealing with a serious outbreak of the Hong Kong flu, and the waiting room is about the last place for an infant right now." 

"I don't know what to do then. I can't leave her." 

"I understand the difficulty, but isn't there anyone else who could look after the child for a few hours? Or perhaps you know how we can get in touch with Roberto's mother? It's imperative that someone come down here as soon as possible in case there are complications." 

"Complications? I thought you said he was going to be all right." 

She smiled, hearing the panic in the housekeeper's voice, knowing she was very close now. 

"Yes, ma'am. For the time being, your grandson's condition has stabilized, but unfortunately, head injuries are unpredictable. We really need someone down here in case anything happens. Roberto's pretty scared, as you can imagine. He's been asking for you and his mother." 

"Alma, my daughter, is out of town on business." 

"Is there no one you could call, nobody who could watch the baby for just a few hours?" 

She could hear Marta hesitating on the other end of the line. "No one I could call, but there are two girls here...yes, I suppose for a few hours it would be okay. I'll be right down. Por favor, I don't remember which hospital you said." 

"San Francisco General. Come to the main desk in the ER and ask for Nurse Taylor." 

She could hear the housekeeper slowly repeating that information, probably as she wrote it down. 

"Thank you so much, Senora Taylor. Thank you for looking after my grandson." 

"It's my pleasure, Senora Alvarez. I'll see you soon." 

She hung up the cell phone and waited. It was only a few minutes before the housekeeper hurried out the front door, forgetting to lock it in her haste. Marta walked quickly down the block and around the corner, toward the bus stop. 

She waited until the other woman was completely out of sight. There had been a small part of her that had expected something to go wrong, even though it was such a foolproof plan. Now, she sneered at that doubting part of herself. //If it weren't meant to be, it wouldn't have been so easy. I'm _supposed_ to do this. I'm _supposed_ to guide this Sentinel.// 

She crossed the street, walking slowly and normally, trying not to arouse the neighbors' suspicion. She climbed the steps to the front door and slipped in as silently as possible. She headed for the staircase and went up to the second floor and then the third. At the top of the last flight of stairs, she came to a long hallway. 

//So close now.// 

She knew what she had come for was behind the last door at the end of the corridor. She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to rein in her runaway heart beat, trying to tamp down her excitement, so she could think clearly. She was only yards away from her saving grace, the only person who could give her a second chance to lead a meaningful life, one filled with purpose, another opportunity to be fully and gloriously alive. 

She took a step forward and felt the future opening up before her. 

* * *

//Where the hell is she?// 

Elizabeth paced back and forth along the pier. The note had said 2:00. It was now half an hour past that, and still Alex Barnes had not shown up. 

//She's playing with me. She could be watching from hundreds of yards away, and I'd never know. She could have a gun. She could have me in her sights right now.// 

She viciously pushed those thoughts away. //I can't get distracted. I can't afford to be scared. She's not the only Sentinel here. My senses are as strong as hers, probably stronger, and Jim's watching my back. Between the two of us, we'd sense her. Wouldn't we? Oh God, I hope so.// 

"Beth, it's been half an hour already. If she was coming, she'd already be here. Let's call this off and go home." She picked up Sam's voice with her Sentinel hearing. He and Blair were hiding behind a kiosk a little ways down from the pier, a place where they had a good vantage, in case Alex or anyone else showed up. 

Elizabeth shook her head, knowing they would see her with their binoculars. She wasn't ready to give up just yet. If Alex was out there, she had to make every effort to catch her. 

"Elizabeth, I've scanned the entire area, and I see no trace of her. I don't sense anything either, nothing like when I ran up against her in the past. Do you feel anything?" Jim asked, from his distant hiding place. 

"Are you saying we should give up?" she asked. 

"Maybe it was a prank," he suggested. 

"I don't see how that's possible. There was too much information in the note that could only have come from Alex. Besides, what would anyone have to gain from this?" 

"I don't know. Maybe somebody out there just wants to upset you, wants to mess with your mind. Maybe it's a revenge thing. Is there anyone pissed off at you? A former patient, maybe?" 

"I can't think of anyone, at least no one who would do something like this. Sure, there are some cons who might want to get even with me for recommending against their parole, but I'm pretty sure they would have picked a more direct method than this. What's the point of dragging us all out here on a wild goose chase? What does that accomplish?" she wondered. 

Suddenly the answer flashed across her mind. "Oh, my God!" she cried. 

"Elizabeth? What? Do you see Alex?" 

"No," she said frantically. "Come back to the car. Get Sam and Blair. I just realized what this is all about. It was never about meeting us here. It was about getting us away from the house." 

"Oh, no! Oh God, okay, I'm on my way," Jim said. 

Elizabeth began running back to the car, and she could see Jim, Blair and Sam all rushing toward her from the opposite direction. The expressions on all their faces were bleak, and she knew Jim must have clued them in. She ran faster, panic spreading through her, her mind locked on only one thought. 

//Dear God, please, don't let anything happen to our children.// 

* * *

They looked like deer caught in headlights. That was her thought as she stood in the doorway to the nursery, holding the gun on the two teenage girls, young Sentinel and Guide. She'd caught them trying to get the baby, the one she'd come for, to make their escape from the house. 

//The young Sentinel must have sensed me.// She smiled to herself and realized it probably looked menacing and a little deranged. Somehow, that pleased her. She wanted them to be afraid of her. She wanted them to tremble, these girls who had the most awe-inspiring secrets of the cosmos at their fingertips and didn't even appreciate it. 

The fair-haired girl, the young Sentinel, looked miserable, probably blaming herself for not realizing there was danger sooner. //Ah well, young one, too bad. You failed. This precious little girl is mine now, and there's nothing you can do about it.// 

The dark-haired girl, the young Guide, was holding the child, clutching her to her chest. "What do you want?" she asked, in a terrified voice. 

"I want what you're holding," she said, training the gun on Elena. "Put her down, please." 

The Guide shook her head. "I can't do that. I can't let you hurt her." 

She glared at them both. "Don't be stupid. I have no intention of hurting her. I'm here to help. She needs a Guide." 

The girls exchanged a look, and the dark-haired girl spoke, "It's not time for that yet. She needs her parents. She's just a baby." 

"Her parents owe me, at least her mother does. Because of her, I lost my Sentinel. Now I want another. This little one is mine." 

She could see the confusion in both their faces. They didn't know the story. She bet there was a great deal they'd never been told. 

"They must not have wanted you to know," she said, her voice low and insidious. "They were hiding it from you. They probably thought you were too young to hear what can happen to a Sentinel if anyone finds out about you. They didn't want to scare you." 

She watched both girls' faces very closely and saw the telltale signs of emotional struggle. She could tell they didn't want to believe her. They trusted the doctor and didn't want to think she'd withhold anything from them. But there was a part of them that also knew she might have, if the doctor had thought it was for their own good. 

"Someone broke into Dr. Knowlton's office and stole her notes on the Sentinels she'd helped. They kidnapped all of them and held them in an abandoned warehouse out in the middle of nowhere. They were chained and drugged, and the kidnappers performed mind control experiments on them, trying to turn them into zombies who would murder on command. Two of the Sentinels died, including my husband." 

The young Sentinel shook her head. "That can't be true." 

She arched one eyebrow at the girl mockingly. "Isn't it now? Ask Dr. Knowlton. She was there. She was one of the Sentinels they tortured, only she had the good fortune to survive. She was much luckier than my poor husband." 

The Guide tightened her hold on the baby. "That still doesn't make what you're doing right, even if what you say is true. It's not like Dr. Knowlton meant for it to happen. She was as much a victim as your husband." 

Rage rocked through her, and she pointed the gun in the girl's direction. "Yes! But she didn't die, did she? _Her_ Guide still has her in his life, safe and sound and alive. What do I have? Nothing. Nothing, but the knowledge of what might have been. There's nobody who can understand that. The other Guide who lost his Sentinel killed himself. He couldn't endure this hell. So here I am, all alone and suffering. You have no idea what that's like!" she screamed. 

The two girls huddled closer, scared speechless, watching her with large, terrified eyes. She shook her head. Now, the two of them were banding together. Now, they were working as a team, looking to one another for comfort and help, the way Sentinels and Guides were supposed to. Well, it was too late. She'd already realized she didn't have to be alone, the only Guide bereft of her Sentinel. She had it in her power to add to that sorrowful sorority. And how much more agonizing it would be for this young Guide, because _her_ Sentinel would die defending her. 

The thought made her smile, and both girls recoiled at the sight of her malicious glee. //Oh, young ones, if you only knew what I have in store for you. But very soon, you will. Very soon, indeed, your hell will begin.// 

She stepped closer and pointed the gun at the baby's back. "Put her down, or I'll shoot her and then kill both of you." 

The Guide instinctively pulled the infant closer. 

"It doesn't have to end badly," she said, waving the gun at them. "Put the baby down, and everyone lives. If you don't, everyone dies. It's a simple choice." 

The Guide looked to her Sentinel, and the blond girl nodded. 

"All right," the Guide said. "Don't shoot. See? I'm putting her down." 

The dark-haired girl carefully settled the child back into her crib, just as she'd known she would. //These instincts are so predictable.// She couldn't help laughing out loud at the thought, and both teenagers jumped, completely rattled. 

"That's fine," she told them. "Now step away from the crib." They complied. "Stop there," she said, maneuvering them away from the infant, so she wouldn't accidentally be hit by a stray bullet. 

"I've watched you girls for days now," she said. "You've been incredibly stupid to resist each other. There's nothing more amazing than the connection between Sentinel and Guide. But now, you'll never know what it means to be a Guide," she told Elena, pointing the gun at her chest. "You'll never know what it means to experience the love of your Sentinel, to complete the bond by joining your bodies and minds and souls." 

Both girls gasped, and she smiled at their expressions of astonishment. 

"They didn't tell you that either, did they? But it's true. Sentinels and Guides are always lovers. Have you met any besides yourselves who aren't?" 

She watched the realization form on both their faces. The young Sentinel looked especially stricken. "Doesn't it appeal to you? The notion of touching her that way, making love to her. Does it disgust you?" she asked the Sentinel, toying with her. 

The girl didn't answer; she just stared back at her helplessly. 

"Ah, well, it doesn't really matter. You're not going to get the chance to find out if you would have liked it. They took away my future with my Sentinel. Now I'm going to take away _their_ future." 

She turned her attention back to the young Guide. The gun was already aimed at her. She slowly pulled the trigger, giving the Sentinel time to sense what she was doing and act. The gun went off with a bright flash from the muzzle. The young Sentinel leaped in front of her Guide just in time, shielding her with her own body. 

"No!" the Guide screamed. 

Her young Sentinel's body jerked as the bullet hit her, knocking her back, sending her crumpling to the ground. The Guide wailed in agony, falling to the floor beside her Sentinel, pulling the bleeding girl into her arms. 

She watched the two of them huddled on the floor, the injured Sentinel silent and dazed with pain, the grief-stricken Guide rocking her, crying out in anguish. She breathed a sigh of relief. Now she wasn't alone anymore. Now someone else understood. She walked calmly to the crib and picked up the infant who immediately began to shriek. She wrapped the little girl in her baby blanket, trying to calm and soothe her so she'd stop crying as she headed for the door. 

"Why?" the young Guide screamed, her face already wet and swollen with tears as she sobbed hysterically. 

"Misery loves company," she explained. "Welcome to hell, little girl." 

* * *

Jim knew something was terribly wrong as they rounded the corner onto Elizabeth and Sam's block. It was less actual information from his senses than instinct. He didn't know exactly what yet, but something was definitely going on. 

By the time they'd pulled up to the house, he could make out one pulse, strong but rapid. It was one of the girls, and she was scared. He scanned the house for other signs of life. There was only one other set of vitals, and the pulse was sluggish and erratic. //Shit! Somebody's hurt. And where the hell is everybody else? There should be two other sets of life signs.// 

All four of them jumped out of the car and raced up the stairs. He saw that Elizabeth had also done a sensory sweep of the house and had come to the same conclusions--somebody injured, two people missing. Sam took out his keys, but the door wasn't locked. Jim moved to the front of the group, taking the lead, in case the perp was still inside. 

They quietly crept into the house and did a sweep of the ground floor, finding nothing but a note from Marta stuck to the refrigerator, informing them that her grandson had been taken to the hospital and that she'd left Carla in the care of Clare and Elena. //That explains one missing person.// Jim thought, as he headed for the stairs. 

The second floor was also clear, and the four of them headed for the third. Sobs could plainly be heard now. It was Elena, and it was coming from the nursery. All four of them hurried down the hall and into the room. Collectively, they all cried out at what they found. 

The crib was empty; Carla was nowhere to be seen. Elena was crouched on the floor, holding Clare in her arms, rocking her, trying to comfort the injured girl. Tears streamed down Elena's young face, blood soaked her shirt. Clare's eyes were half closed, and she was very pale. She lay listlessly in her Guide's arms, and Jim could hear a faint gurgling in her breathing. He rushed to her side, and Blair moved to help Elena. 

"Are you hurt?" Blair asked the young Guide. 

She shook her head. "Ju-Ju-sst, Cl-a-re," she managed to say, between sobs. 

Sam pulled out his cell phone and called for an ambulance. Jim took the young Sentinel into his arms, to assess the extent of her injuries. 

"Apply pressure to the wound to stop the bleeding," Elizabeth instructed, and he pressed his hand firmly against Clare's shoulder. She moaned at the pain, protesting against it. 

"Just hold on," Jim told her. "We're here now. We're going to take care of you. I promise." 

Blair knelt on the floor beside Elena and put his arms around her, trying to calm her down. 

Elizabeth hovered over them. "Sweetheart, I know you're upset," she said. "But I really need your help. Can you tell me what happened? Where's Carla?" 

The girl was still crying, but she did manage to say, "Marta asked us to watch her while she went to the hospital to be with her grandson. Carla was taking a nap, so we came upstairs to check on her. We were heading up the steps when Clare heard the front door open, and she didn't recognize the heart beat." 

"You're doing really good, Elena," Blair encouraged her, rubbing her back soothingly. 

"We got afraid," Elena said. "So we ran up here, and we were going to take Carla and get out of the house. But...I don't know...I guess she must have heard us, because suddenly there she was, standing in the door. And she...she had...a gun. She pointed it at us." 

The girl broke down and started sobbing again. Blair hugged her closer, and Elizabeth handed her some tissues. 

"The ambulance is on its way," Sam told them. 

"Is Clare going to be all right" Elena asked, tremulously. 

"I don't think the bullet damaged any major organs, but she's lost a lot of blood. We need to get her to the hospital," Elizabeth told her. 

"It's all my fault," Elena said. 

"No, sweetheart, all the blame belongs to whoever did this. Can you try and tell us the rest of what happened?" she asked. 

"The woman...she wanted Carla. She said that her Sentinel had died, and now she wanted another one. We tried to tell her that Carla's only a baby, and she doesn't need a Guide yet. But she wouldn't listen. She was really angry at us, like she hated me and Clare. I don't know why. Anyway, I was holding Carla, and she made me put her down. She said if I did she wouldn't hurt anybody, but if I didn't, she'd shoot us all. But when I put Carla down, the woman pointed the gun at me and said she was going to kill me, that I'd never get to know what it was like to be a Guide. She kept smiling, like it made her really happy that she was going to hurt me. She had the gun pointed right at me, and she pulled the trigger. But Clare jumped in front of me, and she got shot instead. Oh God, she was just falling, and there was blood all over the place and I kept screaming and screaming. And the woman didn't care. She just picked Carla up and started to leave. So I screamed at her, that I wanted to know why she'd done this. And she said that misery loves company, and now there was another Guide who knew what it was like to lose a Sentinel. Then she left." 

Jim watched Elizabeth's face during Elena's painful recitation. All the blood had drained out of it. 

"Was this woman in her forties, with short dark hair, going grey, medium height, brown eyes?" Elizabeth asked the girl. 

Elena nodded. "Yeah. Do you know her?" 

Elizabeth stood up and began to pace. "It has to be Vivien." 

"But why would she do this?" Sam asked. 

"Who's Vivien?" Blair asked them. 

"She was a Guide. Her Sentinel was one of the ones who died at the warehouse," Elizabeth explained. "This is all about revenge. I tried to talk to her after it happened, but she never would respond. She blamed me. That's why she came here. That's why she took Carla." 

"She said you owed her another Sentinel," Elena said. 

"She's crazy," Sam said. "She _knows_ Carla isn't her Sentinel." 

Elena nodded. "She _is_ disturbed, Dr. Knowlton. She had this look in her eyes..." the girl trailed off, shivering. 

Clare moaned and grabbed for Jim's shirt. 

"Sshh, it's all right," he told her. "I've got you. You're going to be all right. Help is on the way." 

"She was going to shoot...Elena," the girl struggled to say. "Couldn't let that happen. _Protect the Guide._ Kept going through my head." Clare started to cry. "I don't even know what that means." 

Jim rocked her, stroking her hair. "Try not to talk. It's okay. We'll talk about it when you're better, I promise. Rest now." 

Clare closed her eyes again, and Jim felt her drift into unconsciousness. 

"The ambulance is coming," Elizabeth said. "I hear the sirens." 

"I'll go down and meet the paramedics," Sam said. 

"I'm sorry we let her take Carla," Elena said, through hiccupy sobs. "We really did try to stop her. I swear." 

Elizabeth brushed the hair out of her face and wiped the tears away. "I know you did, Elena. It's not your fault in any way. You were both very brave." 

"She was just so mad, at all of us." 

Elizabeth nodded, and Jim could see her blaming herself, for Clare getting shot, for Elena witnessing it, for Carla being kidnapped. 

"It's no one's fault, but the person who did it," Jim said firmly. 

The EMTs rushed into the room and moved them all away from Clare. Jim was reluctant to let her go, but he didn't want to stand in the way of medical treatment. The paramedics briefly examined the girl and then moved her onto the gurney. 

"We're taking her to St. Vincent's hospital. It's the closest one. You can meet us there," one of the EMTs told them. 

"We have to go after Vivien and get Carla back," Sam said, beginning to sound frantic. "Before it's too late." 

Jim looked down into Clare's pale, drained face. He had never felt so torn in his life. "I don't think I can leave her," he finally said. 

Elizabeth put a hand on his arm. "Somebody needs to stay with her and take care of Elena." 

"But I'm the cop here, Elizabeth," he said. 

"Yes, but I'm the psychiatrist. If Vivien is disturbed, I may be able to reach her," Elizabeth said. 

"If she's got Carla, our best chance is definitely trying to reason with her," Blair said. "We can't risk a shootout." 

"And Clare needs you," Elizabeth said to Jim. "You're the one she trusts." 

"I'm going to go with Sam and Elizabeth," Blair told his partner. "Maybe I can reach this woman, Guide to Guide." 

"Be careful," Jim whispered to his lover. 

Blair squeezed his hand. "I will. Don't worry." 

"How are we ever going to find her?" Sam asked. 

"Actually, I have an idea about that. It's somewhere she used to go with Dale, her Sentinel, when they first found each other. I just have this feeling it's where she is, where she has Carla." 

"We'll find them," Sam said, trying to reassure his wife and himself. 

She reached for his hand. "God, I hope so. I just want my baby back. I want this whole nightmare to be over." 

* * *

//What have I done?// 

That sickening thought pounded through Vivien's head, as she sat on the bus with the kidnapped baby, not even certain where she was going. She searched herself for any small sign of the irresistible pulse, the voice that had been guiding her, but it was gone now. Everything had turned to chaos. Carla was still screaming her head off, and the rest of the passengers kept glaring at her, obviously wondering why she couldn't get her child to stop crying. 

//Because she's not mine. She never was. Oh, God!// 

She tried everything to soothe the shrieking infant. She held her on her shoulder and rubbed her back, rocked her gently back and forth in her arms, sang to her very softly, even jingled a set of keys for her, the old standby she'd learned baby sitting, something that worked when all else failed--but not in this case. Carla just kept on wailing, and Vivien understood it for the sign that it was. This Sentinel was not hers to guide. The doubting voice had been right all along. She should never have come back here. 

//Misery loves company.// 

It made her cringe. She'd been so cruel to those girls, those _children_ , and in all her life, she'd never had a malicious bone in her body. She'd never hurt anyone. She'd never even considered it, that's how anathema violence had been to her. It felt almost as if she'd been possessed by some kind of evil spirit these past few days. Now that the strange, unnatural, overpowering rage had passed, she was deeply appalled by what she'd done. She couldn't even quite believe it. 

She fidgeted in her seat, resettling the baby, trying to make her more comfortable. As she moved, she could feel the cool, heavy weight of the gun in her pocket. Her mind flashed unbidden on an image of the young Sentinel reeling backwards, her blood suddenly everywhere, the look of amazed horror on her face, her Guide's obvious anguish. //Oh, my God! Oh, my God! I did that. I shot her. Oh, my God!// 

Vivien's eyes darted wildly around the bus. She had the sick sensation that people would just know somehow what she'd done, but no one betrayed the least sign of interest in her, except for an occasional irritated glance because of Carla's crying. Still, she couldn't quite shake the terribly unnerving feeling that had taken her over. She held the infant closer, tighter in her arms, trying to draw solace from the innocent sweet baby scent, the little girl's comforting warmth. But Carla only cried louder. 

// _She_ knows. She knows what I've done, what I've become, and that's why she doesn't want me holding her. It's God's judgment against me, and I deserve it.// 

The bus pulled over to the curb and picked up more passengers. She looked out the window, trying to gauge her surroundings, trying to figure out where they were. The area seemed strangely familiar. Yes, she recognized it, and suddenly, everything became clear. She could see where it was all leading, where it had always been leading. She knew where to go, a place where Dr. Knowlton would think to look for her. Somehow, she just sensed this was how it was supposed to unfold. This whole thing had never been about getting away with the baby Sentinel. It had been about being found, about new beginnings and final stands. 

It had been about finding peace, at last. 

* * *

Blair climbed out of the back seat of the car and followed Sam and Elizabeth through the park, to the Japanese tea garden. The couple were holding hands, trying to steady one another, but Blair could tell by their grim expressions just how worried they were about their daughter, as any parents would be. He hurried alongside them, and they all headed down the path toward the open, wooden structure where Elizabeth believed Vivien would be. 

Elizabeth stopped suddenly in her tracks, a look of intense concentration crossing her face, an expression Blair recognized all too well. "She's in there," she said. "And Carla's with her. She's crying," Elizabeth said, a sob in her voice, and she broke into a run. 

"Beth! Wait!" Sam screamed, tearing off after her. "She's dangerous!" 

"Guys! Hang on!" Blair called, also starting to run. 

By the time they reached the tea garden, they were all a little winded. They grouped together by the entrance, catching their breath, and that's when they saw Vivien, at the other end of the building, slightly in the shadows, the only other person there, holding the baby in her arms. 

"Carla!" Elizabeth called to her child, and the baby finally stopped crying, her screams subsiding into little sobs, comforted by the presence of her parents. 

"I knew you'd come," Vivien said to them. 

"I don't know why you've done this, Vivien. But please, none of this is Carla's fault. Please give her back to us. We're her parents. She needs us," Elizabeth said. 

"I wanted another Sentinel. They took mine. I couldn't go back to the way it was before. I just couldn't, now that I know the difference." 

"But you know what Sentinels and Guides are to one another. Carla's just a baby. You know she's not your Sentinel," Elizabeth argued. 

Vivien's temper flared. "You don't know _everything_ about Sentinels, _Dr._ Knowlton. You're not the final authority." 

Elizabeth nodded. "You're right," she said gently. "I certainly don't know everything. I never meant to imply that I did. But I do know this for sure. Carla is not your Sentinel. She needs to grow up before she takes a Guide." 

Vivien didn't seem entirely appeased by this. "You didn't know they would come looking for Sentinels. You didn't know what could happen if people found out." 

Blair could see tears in Elizabeth's eyes. Sam's gaze was fastened on his daughter, every muscle in his body tense, as if he were just waiting to spring, to grab Carla away from the unbalanced woman who held her. 

"You're right, Vivien. I had no idea what might happen. I never imagined anything so awful could happen to us. I'm sorry," Elizabeth said, her voice shaking and sad. 

"That's not good enough!" Vivien screamed. "I lost my Sentinel! I'm all alone. Nobody understands that." 

"Is that why you shot Clare? So Elena would know what it's like?" Elizabeth asked. 

Vivien nodded absently, becoming increasingly disoriented. "I know it seems so...but it made sense at the time. I swear it did. The voice was inside me, the Guide instinct, and it showed me the way. But then afterwards, I wasn't so sure. It seemed so wrong...and I was so sorry." 

"You _should_ be sorry," Sam said, the anger evident in his voice. "You punished Clare, Elena and Carla for what you think _we_ did to you. They're _children_. How could you? How _dare_ you? They didn't deserve any of this." 

"I had to teach them a lesson," Vivien said, very softly, frowning, as if she were just beginning to understand something. 

"You bitch!" Sam cursed. 

"What do you mean, Vivien?" Elizabeth asked. 

"I kept trying to figure it out. I couldn't understand. But then, something drew me here, and I thought it was to bond with a new Sentinel. I was just going to ask you for one at first. But then, I kept getting angrier and angrier. By the time I was standing there in the nursery with that young Sentinel and Guide, I was furious. I saw them there, with everything ahead of them, everything to live for, and I just pointed the gun and pulled the trigger. The Sentinel did what Sentinels are supposed to do; she protected the Guide. And then I knew, then I understood why I was still alive when my Sentinel was dead, because I had that lesson to teach her." 

Blair just stared at her, not knowing what to say. Elizabeth and Sam were similarly dumbstruck. 

"Is the young Sentinel going to be all right?" Vivien asked. 

"We don't know for sure, but I think so. The bullet hit her in the shoulder. I don't think there's any major damage, and we found her before she bled too much." 

"Is her Guide with her?" the woman asked. 

Sam nodded. "Yes. She went to the hospital with her." 

"It worked then," Vivien said. "They're together, the way they should be, and now I'm finally finished. 

Elizabeth's eyes grew wide. "Vivien, no, please," she begged. 

"Ever since Dale died, I wanted to, but I just couldn't bring myself to do it. Finally, I realized there must be one last thing I needed to do, some reason I couldn't leave. On my way over here, I finally realized that this was it, getting this young Sentinel and Guide together, even though it was in such a brutal way. It reminded me of something I heard in church once. The minister said that Judas was as much a part of God's plan as the rest of the disciples, as Jesus himself. I always kind of resisted that. I mean, Judas was the betrayer. How could God have intended him to do something so awful? But now I understand." 

"Please don't," Elizabeth pleaded. 

"Hasn't there already been enough suffering, enough loss?" Sam asked. 

"The worst loss is to be without your Sentinel," Vivien told him. "I pray you never have to go through that. There is no greater pain." 

"You don't have to die or try to go back to how things were before you found your Sentinel," Blair suggested. "You could be a teacher. You could find a more constructive way to help young Sentinels and Guides, to show them how to bond." 

He drew Vivien's attention, and she looked him over carefully, as if she were soaking in important information about him, an expression on her face that was almost a smile. "Somehow I think that's yours to do, not mine," she said. "Besides, I'm tired. And I'm finished. Now I can go, and that's what I want, to be reunited with my Sentinel." 

She lay Carla down on the wooden floor and stepped back from her. She smiled at them all sadly. "It was so foolish of me to ever believe I could find another Sentinel. There's only one, ever, one Sentinel for each Guide, always and forever. I just kind of lost sight of that for a while..." 

"I'm sorry, Vivien. I'm so, so sorry about what happened to Dale," Elizabeth said, crying. "That's what I wanted to tell you all those times I called and you wouldn't speak to me. If I could undo it, I swear I would. But it doesn't mean you have to die, too. Please, please don't hurt yourself." 

Vivien shook her head. "You don't understand. I'm not hurting myself. I'm _freeing_ myself. I had the right idea all along. I just didn't quite understand it fully. But now I do, and now I'm truly starting over." 

Elizabeth took a step toward her. "Please, let me help you." 

Vivien reached a hand into her pocket and pulled out a gun. Blair presumed it was the same one she'd used to shoot Clare. This time, she pointed it at Elizabeth. 

"Stay back, Dr. Knowlton. I can't let you interfere." 

"Please don't, Vivien." 

"I forgive you," Vivien told her. "It was never really your fault in the first place, but I forgive you anyway, just so you'll know, just so you can forgive yourself. This is my choice. No one else is to blame for it. It's what's meant to be. I can see that so clearly now. Take care of your daughter. She's so beautiful, so perfect. She's going to be a fine Sentinel when she grows up. Protect your Guide. I can see how much he loves you. Thank you for trying. Thank you for caring. Good-bye." 

Vivien brought the gun up to her temple, and it went off with a loud, shattering bang. 

"NOOOOOO!!!" Elizabeth screamed. 

"Oh my God!" Sam said. 

Blair was speechless. 

Vivien's body crumpled to the floor. Perhaps it was the surreality of the moment, of the entire day, but it seemed to happen in slow motion, gently, gracefully, a feather falling lightly to the earth. But that didn't erase any of its horror. One moment, she was standing there in front of them, warm and alive, and the next, she was lying on the cold ground, the life drained out of her, her eyes wide and staring. 

Elizabeth rushed forward and grabbed up Carla. The baby began crying again, but out of relief this time, so happy to be safe in her mother's arms once more. Sam hugged them both tightly to him, tears in his eyes, clinging to his family with all his strength. 

Blair knelt by Vivien's lifeless body, and he felt something clench inside him, the beginning of a profound sorrow. He did not know if what she had said was right or not, whether her seemingly insane actions had actually been the mysterious Sentinel imperative working in its own unfathomable way or if they had been the product of an unremitting grief that had festered until it turned out upon the world with a vengeance. In some way, it did not matter. She was a Guide. He was a Guide. They were kindred, and he mourned her. 

He sat there for a long moment, saying a silent prayer for her, and then he reached over and closed her eyes, for the last time. 

"Good-bye," he told her, a woman he hadn't really known, that now he would never know, who was still a part of him anyway. 

He looked up and found Sam and Elizabeth watching him, his own feelings mirrored in their eyes. 

"Are you ready?" Sam asked him softly, the sadness in his voice deep and rough. 

Blair nodded. "Yes," he said. "Let's go home." 

* * *

The next day at the hospital reminded Jim of the many times he and Blair had seen the inside of a Cascade medical facility, one partner waiting by the bedside of the other or both of them recuperating together. They'd been fortunate so far. Every time, they'd managed to walk away, eventually, still in one piece, more or less, both of them, together. Now that same lucky star shone down on Clare and Elena. 

It amazed Jim the difference a single day could make. Yesterday, he'd been truly afraid for Clare's life. Today, she was sitting up in bed, smiling, a little wanly perhaps, but smiling just the same, as Elena chattered away at her, keeping her company, working hard to cheer her up. 

The injury had not proven especially serious after all, mostly a matter of stopping the bleeding and preventing infection. They'd bandaged her shoulder and put her arm in a sling. Late last night, they'd moved her to a private room, and the doctors had declared her officially out of danger. 

And now she was smiling, even though he could tell she was still in pain. She had been a Sentinel all her life, and somewhere along the line had figured out for herself the trick of controlling her senses with dials. She was working at it now, trying to keep the pain manageable. They'd all been giving her advice--Jim, Elizabeth, Blair, Sam-- overwhelming the poor young Sentinel until she'd finally turned to Elena and asked for _her_ help and _only_ her help. Jim had never seen such a blinding smile on anyone's face as Elena began happily, enthusiastically coaching her Sentinel on how to ease the discomfort. 

Clare followed her Guide's instructions, and her expression turned to sheer amazement. "Hey, it works better when Elena talks me through it," she announced. 

All the adults in the room, with the exception perhaps of Marta who did not quite understand why the doctors didn't just give the girl a shot for her pain, grinned so goofily at one another that it was nearly a TV sitcom moment. 

"Miss Clare looks like she's doing much better today," Marta observed. 

"She certainly does," Sam agreed. 

"A positive attitude always helps. It's good that you have your friend to lift your spirits, hey, little one?" the housekeeper said. 

Clare smiled and nodded. "That's so true." 

Elena had refused to leave Clare's side the entire time she'd been in the hospital, sleeping on one of the hard, plastic couches in the waiting room. The uncomfortable accommodations didn't seem to have fazed her one bit though; she was just as chipper and energetic as ever. Jim only wished he'd fared half so well, his shoulders tied in knots and a kink in his back so stubborn it would take a good, long, hard massage from his Guide to work it out. 

"Elizabeth?" Clare said, a little haltingly. 

Elizabeth went to stand by her bedside, brushing the hair out of her face. "Yes, sweetheart?" 

Clare stared down at her own hands. "Um...I just wanted to say how sorry I am that I didn't protect Carla. I tried. I really did. But that lady...she got away...and I couldn't..." 

Elizabeth hugged the girl as best she could without jostling her shoulder. "Clare, you have absolutely nothing to be sorry for. I wanted to thank you last night for all you did for Carla, but you were already asleep. Nobody could possibly have looked out for my daughter more selflessly than you and Elena did, and I'm very, very grateful. Thank you so much." 

Clare still looked distressed. "We shouldn't have believed her, that lady, I mean. She said she wouldn't hurt us if we put Carla down, but she lied. I mean, of course she _would_ lie to get us to do what she wanted. Like, duh. I guess we were kind of stupid. She really fooled us." 

Marta sighed and her face twisted with guilt. "You're not the only ones she fooled, Miss Clare. I should never have left the house. I should never have left you and Miss Elena alone for that awful woman to..." she broke off, unable to finish the thought. 

"No," Elizabeth said, shaking her head. "I won't have you all blaming yourselves. It's no one's fault but Vivien's. She outsmarted us all. I mean, she had me convinced that the person I most feared was back from the dead. If I hadn't gone tearing off after ghosts, no one of this would have happened." 

Sam put an arm around his wife's shoulders. "It's no one's fault but Vivien's, remember?" 

Elizabeth nodded, but Jim could tell that she still felt responsible. He was pretty sure this was just par for the Sentinel course, a part of the instincts, feeling at fault when your protection failed, even when you'd done everything humanly possible. 

"So you're not mad at me?" Clare asked Elizabeth. 

Elizabeth shook her head decisively, determined to get Clare to believe her. "Of course not! Why would I possibly be mad at you?" she asked. "You tried to save my little girl. You were very brave, both of you, and I'm very, very proud of you." 

Clare looked up at her, surprised. "You're proud of me?" 

Elizabeth smiled at her. "Yes. Of course. You're both my heroes." 

Clare broke into a huge smile. "Hey, Elena, we're heroes. Cool, huh? 

"The coolest," Elena agreed, also very pleased. 

"Um...Elizabeth?" Clare asked. "Could I..." 

"What?" she asked the girl. 

"Could I hold Carla?" 

Everyone in the room froze for a moment, amazed by the request. Clare liked to watch Carla, but she'd been very reticent about actually playing with her or picking her up. 

"Of course you can," Elizabeth told her. 

Sam handed Elizabeth the baby, and she settled her into the crook of Clare's good arm. 

Clare held Carla very carefully, a little awkwardly with the injury and her lack of experience, but she smiled while she rocked the little girl and talked baby talk to her. 

"She likes you," Elizabeth told her. 

Clare looked pleased. "Does she really?" she asked. 

"Most definitely," Sam assured her. "If she didn't, she'd be screaming her head off. Trust me on this." 

"She cried the whole time that lady was holding her," Clare said, the guilt and sadness returning to her face. 

Elizabeth put a hand on her shoulder. "But she's safe now, no harm done. And you're safe and Elena's safe. It all worked out okay in the end, and everything's going to be fine now." 

Clare nodded and handed Carla back to her. "Thanks for letting me hold her." 

"You're welcome. Since you're her protector now, you can hold her anytime you want. I'm sure she'll like that." 

"Elizabeth?" Clare said. 

"Mm-hm?" 

"I know I haven't always been easy to deal with, but...I really do appreciate your helping me and stuff and taking care of me. Thank you," she said, in an extremely small voice. 

Elizabeth got tears in her eyes. "I love you," she told her. 

"Love you too," Clare whispered. 

Elizabeth kissed her on the forehead. "We're going to take Carla home now, but we'll be back a little later on. I talked to the doctor, and hopefully, they'll release you tomorrow or the next day." 

"That's great!" Elena said. 

"Elena, do you want to come home for a little while and maybe get some sleep?" Elizabeth asked. 

She shook her head. "I'm staying with Clare." 

"At least come down to the cafeteria and get something to eat," Blair insisted. "Jim says you haven't had anything since lunchtime yesterday." 

Elena hesitated, looking to Clare. "I don't know..." 

"It's okay," Clare assured her. "We don't want you checking into the hospital with malnutrition just as I'm checking out." 

"I'll stay with Clare," Jim promised. 

"And I'll keep you company while you eat, Elena," Blair offered and turned to his partner. "I'll be back in a few, big guy." 

He smiled at his lover. "Okay, Chief." 

"You guys want me to come back for you later?" Sam asked. "You can call me, and I'll come pick you up." 

Jim looked over at Blair, who said, "No, that's okay, man. I think Jim and I are going to walk. We'd kind of like to take one last pass through the city before we have to leave." 

Sam smiled at them, seeming to understand that they needed the time alone together to sort out all that they'd been through. "Okay then," he said. "We'll see you back at the house." 

Marta hugged Elena and kissed Clare on the top of her head. "Good-bye Miss Clare. Feel better. See you later, Miss Elena." 

"Good-bye, Marta," Elena said. 

"Bye and thanks," Clare said. 

"Good-bye, sweetie," Elizabeth said to Clare. "I'll see you later. And Elena, I want you to come home for dinner." 

"Ahhh," the girl protested. 

Elizabeth shook her head, effectively cutting off debate, a thoroughly mother-like gesture. "I know I won't be able to talk you out of sleeping here again tonight. Fortunately, I've got a few friends on staff, and I talked them into letting you stay in the room with Clare." 

Elena bounced up and down excitedly. "Yeah! That's great." 

"But there's one condition. You come home and eat a proper dinner and try to get a little sleep before we bring you back. I doubt you'll get a good night's rest folded up in a chair beside Clare's bed." 

"Well..." Elena said. 

"I'll be here while you're at home," Elizabeth said. "We're not going to leave Clare alone." 

"I guess, if I _have_ to," Elena finally conceded. 

"Yes, you _have_ to," Elizabeth said. "So I'll see you later. Now go get something to eat with Blair before you faint," she said, hugging the girl affectionately. 

"Yes, _Mom_ ," Elena said, playfully. 

Elizabeth shook her head and smiled. 

The group finished saying their good-byes, and Sam, Elizabeth, Carla and Marta headed off for the car. Blair slung an arm around Elena's shoulders and led her away, in search of lunch. Jim sat down beside Clare's bed. 

"You know, you don't have to stay with me if you don't want to," Clare said. "You must be hungry too, and you'd probably like to be with Blair." 

"This is exactly where I want to be, so I'm afraid you're stuck with me, kid," Jim said. 

Clare couldn't help smiling. "Well, I guess I'll have to put up with you then." 

"Hey!" Jim said, playfully, swatting her lightly on her good arm. 

"Thank you for staying with me last night," she said, suddenly turning serious. "I was...well, I guess I was really kind of scared." 

Jim watched her face carefully, and he knew that had been very hard to admit. "We all get scared sometimes, Clare. It's only human." 

Clare nodded. "Yeah, I guess," she said and then hesitated. "Jim, can I ask you something?" 

"Sure. Anything." 

"That lady who took Carla and...shot me? She said something." Her face clouded over, and she looked very troubled. 

"What did she say, Clare?" 

"She said that Sentinels and Guides are always lovers. Is that true? I mean, she asked me if I'd ever known any pair who weren't, other than me and Elena, and I don't. Elizabeth and Sam are married. That crazy lady was married to her Sentinel. And you and Blair are together. So was she right? Do Sentinels and Guides always end up...well, you know?" 

Fury at Vivien once again tore through him. //That crazy, fucking, sadistic bitch!// It had been hard enough for Clare to accept her Guide without having to worry about becoming involved in a same sex relationship, without feeling pressured to do something she clearly wasn't yet ready for. He and Blair had been together as Sentinel and Guide three years before they'd finally made love together. They'd enjoyed the luxury of time--time to learn to trust and depend on one another, to fall in love, without feeling like it was some kind of requirement, without any fore-knowledge that would have only freaked them out. 

Vivien had effectively stolen that away from Clare and Elena, and he cursed her for it, the way he cursed her for hurting Clare, for making her Guide suffer, for stealing away Carla, for terrorizing Sam and Elizabeth, for making him think, even for a second, that Alex Barnes was still alive, on the loose, in the same city as his Blair. 

Clare stared at him, begging for an answer. 

"The bond between Sentinel and Guide is very complicated," he finally said, very carefully. "It grows and changes over time. And yes, Sentinels and Guides do complete their connection by taking each other as partners, in every sense of the word. But it's all in its own good time. You don't just skip to that part. There's no need to rush anything. Right now, you should concentrate on getting to know your Guide, on learning to work together as a team. That's what's important. The other stuff will come later, when you're ready, when the feelings are there, when you want it." 

Clare looked distinctly miserable. "What if I can't do it?" 

"If someone had told me what my relationship with Blair would become way back at the beginning when I first met him, I would have said the same thing. I would have said no way, never gonna happen. That's why Vivien should never have told you. That's why Elizabeth never would have. Because it makes something that will just happen on its own, naturally and beautifully, into something tense and weird and upsetting. And you shouldn't have to worry about any of that before you get to it. Don't let what Vivien told you poison your feelings for your Guide. Don't shut Elena out, because you're afraid of where your relationship is headed." 

"No, I won't," Clare said, carefully thinking it over. "It's just...I've never even done that with a boy. I don't know anything. I don't feel ready. The whole things makes me so...I don't know, nervous, I guess. Completely wigged out is more like it." She blushed ferociously. 

"You don't have to do anything you're not ready for. When it comes to love, you should never do anything you don't really want," he told her. "I know it's hard, but try not to think about it. Pretend Vivien never told you. Don't put any pressure on yourself or on Elena. Just let it unfold the way it should. There's no more amazing feeling than to bond with your Guide. When you're ready, it will be a wonderful experience. I promise you." 

She let out her breath and seemed a little calmer. "Okay, I'm going to try to do that. I don't think it's going to be easy, exactly. But I...I care about Elena, and I don't want to lose her. So I'm going to try not to think about the...well, you know and just concentrate on being Sentinel and Guide." 

"Good girl," he said, smiling. 

"Thanks, Jim," she said. 

He put a gentle, comforting hand on her head. "Anytime." 

He could hear Blair and Elena coming down the hall, chattering away to each other a mile a minute. A moment later, they pushed open the door to Clare's room and stepped inside. 

"Hey," Elena said to Clare, bouncing over to the bed. 

Clare smiled. "Hey." 

Blair looked at him significantly, as if to say it was time to leave the young Sentinel and Guide alone. "Um...do you two mind if we..." Blair asked them. 

"Oh no, you guys, go ahead. I'll stay with Clare, and Elizabeth's coming back later," Elena said. 

"Okay, if you're sure, then we're going to take off. We'll see you later. Feel better, Clare," Blair said. "Come on, big guy." 

"You're sure you'll be all right?" Jim asked the young Sentinel. 

She nodded. "I'm fine. Really, Jim. But thanks for staying with me," she said. 

"Okay, but I'll come back tomorrow to see how you're doing, all right?" Jim said. 

Clare smiled. "Okay." 

"See you guys later," Elena said and waved as they left the room. 

Jim slung his arm around Blair's shoulder. "You ready for that walk now, Chief?" 

Blair leaned into him. "You better believe it." 

They followed the signs to the exit and went out into the bright sunshine of mid-afternoon. It had been very foggy earlier that morning, but the sun had burned it all off. The sky was now cloudless and brilliant blue. They began walking in the direction of Sam and Elizabeth's house, strolling along, enjoying the weather, in no particular hurry. 

Jim reached for Blair's hand. It was such a simple pleasure to walk down the street entwined with his lover, but he hardly ever indulged in it, too conscious of all the stares it elicited in Cascade, a big city with a small town attitude. He could never help feeling that open displays of affection put them in danger, a foolish risk to his cop's brain, flying in the face of his Sentinel instincts. But here in San Francisco, the sight of two men obviously in love with each other was such an normal part of the landscape that no one gave them a second thought. He found it amazing that being ordinary could feel like such a luxury. 

"We should come here sometime on vacation," Blair said, apparently having the same thoughts about the city's openness. 

Jim nodded. "Sounds good, Chief." 

They lapsed into comfortable silence, swinging their hands a little as they walked along together. 

"What's on your mind?" Blair finally asked him. 

"Clare." 

"Mmm." 

"Vivien told her and Elena about Sentinels and Guides, that it's always a sexual relationship." 

Blair nodded. "Yeah, Elena told me. I take it that Clare was upset by that." 

"She's seventeen years old, Chief. She's just figuring out her sexuality. This certainly confuses things." 

"Yeah, I can see how it would. Do you think it will get in their way?" 

"I hope not. I don't think it will. It just would have been so much better if they could have figured it out when they were ready, more like we did." 

"Well, let's hope they would have been a little quicker on the uptake than we were, big guy," Blair said, grinning wickedly. 

Jim elbowed him lightly. "Okay, so maybe we were a little dense." 

"I always knew I loved you. I just didn't quite put it all together until...well, you know." 

"Yeah," Jim said softly. "I know." 

"I think Elena took it better," Blair said, steering the conversation away from painful memories. "She'd already been having feelings for Clare, the bonding instinct, you know." 

"Well, that's good at least." 

Blair nodded. "I really think they'll be fine." 

"I hope so," Jim said. 

They walked on, and Jim stole a glance at his Guide, who looked distracted. 

"Okay, Chief, now it's your turn. Penny for your thoughts." 

He watched Blair's face light up with a smile. "Hey, man, I've practically got my doctorate in the bag. These babies must be worth at least a couple of bucks by now." 

"Smart ass," Jim said, elbowing him playfully. "But seriously, you look like you're chewing on something. What's on your mind?" 

"I was just thinking about something Vivien said before she killed herself." 

Jim put an arm around his Guide. "Don't let her get to you." 

Blair shook his head. "No, I'm not, exactly. I mean, I can't help but feel some kind of...grief, I guess. She was a Guide, and now she's gone. Now matter what she did, I can't help but feel..." 

"Diminished?" Jim suggested. 

Blair nodded. "Yeah, man. How'd you know?" 

"That's how I felt back at that warehouse when I found out that two of the Sentinels had died, like I'd lost members of my family, even though I'd never met them." 

Blair regarded his lover closely for a moment and said softly, "Yeah, I remember how hard that hit you. That's how it was for me today. I guess it's some kind of tribal connection. A member of the tribe dies, and we _feel_ that loss, even if we never knew them personally, even if they made screwed up choices as horrible as Vivien's." 

They both walked on, thinking that over. 

"So what did Vivien say that's prompted all this reflection?" 

"Actually, it was interesting. She said that something had drawn her back to San Francisco, and then this runaway anger came over her and that's what led to shooting Clare. She said that it was part of the Sentinel plan, for getting Clare and Elena together, to get Clare to trust her Guide, kind of like that garbage truck did for us way back when." 

"Vivien was a crazy bitch, Chief. Losing her Sentinel warped her. How could shooting an innocent seventeen year old girl be part of anybody's plan, for any reason?" 

"I know. I know. I didn't quite buy it either. But Clare wasn't really hurt. She's going to be fine, and she has finally accepted Elena as her Guide. In whatever bizarre, even brutal way, Vivien succeeded. She brought them together." 

Jim wasn't entirely convinced, but he simply asked, "So where are you going with all this?" 

"I've been thinking about how it might relate to us." 

He shook his head and smiled. "You know, Chief, no matter how long I'm with you, I don't think I'll ever really understand how that twisted, brilliant brain of yours works." 

"I'm serious about this, man." 

"Okay, Darwin, so tell me then. How _does_ it relate to us?" 

"Do you know what the word _progeny_ really means, Jim? It's not necessarily one's own children. It's simply those who follow after." 

"I'm sorry, Chief, but you kind of lost me. What does that have to do with Vivien or us?" 

"What if _we_ were led here for a reason? What if we really do have a role in the tribe, to work with the children, like Elizabeth suggested?" 

"You mean, that whole...sex thing wasn't an accident? It happened so we'd come here, at this time, to meet Clare and Elena, for you to run up against Vivien, to hear what she had to say?" 

"Yeah. I mean, what if Elizabeth wasn't entirely off base with her theory? What if this whole episode of Sentinel weirdness was about both our relationship to one another _and_ our role in the tribe? What if you really were longing for children? Only of course it's not possible for us to have kids of our own in this life, so that longing led us to a place where we would find other children, the children of the tribe, children who need our help." 

Jim stopped for a moment, pulling his lover around to face him, staring deeply into his eyes, searching for something. He brushed the curls back from Blair's face, and it suddenly reminded him of their son, who looked so much like them both, the child of their spirits, who would be born someday, in some future life, when he could also be the child of their bodies. He remembered how it had been to hold Carla, how complete and content he'd felt. He flashed on Clare's face, young and full of wonder, when he'd taught her how to piggyback her senses. 

He nodded. "Maybe you're right, Chief. So what do we do about it?" 

Blair furrowed his brow, pondering that. "I think we should do what Elizabeth does. Nothing. Just embrace our role in the tribe and wait for it to come to us." 

Jim grinned at his lover and hugged him impulsively, fiercely. "Nothing, huh, Chief? I'm pretty sure I can do that." 

Blair returned the embrace, but said, "Okay, Jim, now who's being the smart ass?" 

Jim pulled back, still smiling, brushing his fingers through his lover's hair. "Okay, okay, guilty as charged. So we wait?" 

Blair nodded. "I think so." 

"Then that's what we'll do." 

"There's something else too, Jim." 

"What?" 

"I'd like us to agree to be Carla's guardians in case anything happens to Sam and Elizabeth. It's something I really want to do...well, you know, if you do." 

Jim fell silent, thinking it over. "Yes, Chief," he finally said. "I think...I'd like that." 

Blair broke into a smile and squeezed his hand. "That's just great, man. I'm so glad." 

"Yeah, me too. It just feels right somehow. I think Elizabeth is right. The Sentinel family is the important one." 

"Let's tell them when we get back to the house, okay?" 

"Okay." 

A few moments passed. "Um, Jim?" 

"Mm-hm?" 

"There's one more thing I'd like." 

Jim laughed and put his arm around his lover's shoulders, pulling him close. "So tell me, Chief, what do you want?" 

"When we get back to the loft, I want to make love again, you inside me, in our bed." 

Jim balked. "I don't know, Blair." 

"We need it." 

"I don't know if I'm ready. When I think about the last time, how I hurt you..." 

"That's why it's important that we do this. We need to put all that behind us. It won't be truly over as long as you're afraid to take me. It's supposed to be an equal partnership, remember?" 

"You continually amaze me." 

"When we get home, I'll have to work on living up to that reputation." He winked at his Sentinel. 

Jim shook his head, chuckling. "You better watch out, Chief. I'm going to hold you to that." 

"You damn well better. So does this mean you will? Make love to me again, I mean." 

Jim took a moment to consider his lover's request. "Yes," he said at last, his voice husky. "I've missed you, missed loving you like that." 

Blair held his gaze, his blue eyes smoldering. "Me too." 

"Thank you, Chief." 

"For what?" 

"For not giving up on me." 

Blair smiled at him tenderly. "That was never an option." 

Jim hugged him to his side, and they continued on, arms twined around each other's waists. 

"Maybe I'll send Clare and Elena copies of the Rainier catalog." 

Jim rolled his eyes. 

"What?" Blair asked, innocently. 

"Do nothing, huh, Chief? Let it come to us?" 

"Well, yeah, you know...I'm just trying to be helpful here. Elena's really interested in anthro, and we've got a great department, if I do say so myself. Plus, Rainier's known for its strong, broad liberal arts program, so there should be something to interest Clare. It can be really confusing trying to pick a college out of all the possibilities out there. If I can shed a little light, well, you know, I'm happy to help." 

Jim hugged him closer. "It's okay, Chief. Breathe. Face it, you're meddling, but it's good meddling. Send them the catalogs. It's a good idea. It would be great to have Clare and Elena in Cascade." 

"I think so too," Blair said and then he frowned. "You know, Jim, helping young Sentinels isn't always going to be smooth sailing. Think about what Elizabeth was going through with Clare and Elena. I just need to make sure you really want to do this before we start down this road. I don't want to push you into anything. I want you to really know what you're getting yourself into." 

Jim nodded. "I appreciate that, Chief. But what this last little Sentinel escapade has taught me is that I can handle anything, as long as I have you beside me." 

Blair stared at him, blinking. "I think that's the nicest thing you've ever said to me." 

"If that's true, I definitely need to improve in the sweet nothings department." 

The corner of Blair's mouth twitched with amusement. "I'm going to remember you said that." 

"And remind me of it every time I'm a grouchy asshole." 

"Absolutely." 

"Then I'll have to work on being a kinder, gentler Jim Ellison," he said, smiling, and then turned more serious. "I've come to realize I never tell you the most important things, but I'm really going to try to change that. You deserve everything I can give you. You saved me. You've made me so happy. You complete me, Blair, and I really do love you so much." 

He took his Guide into his arms, kissing him deeply, entirely unconcerned about who might see, feeling the most free, the most safe, the most connected he ever had in his life. 

Blair returned his kiss with enthusiasm, trembling with need and tenderness. "Love you too, man. Love you forever." 

End 


End file.
